


May to December

by Boneless_Milkshake



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Age Difference, Akechi actually likes Shido, Akira is a Little Shit, Akira works for Shido, Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, Daddy kink gone wrong, Incest, Insults, M/M, Mental Illness, Porn With Plot, Smut, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Violence, a little cheeky selfcest with the boys, sorta a glove kink going on maybe?, this story took a turn for the worst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 00:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14176983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boneless_Milkshake/pseuds/Boneless_Milkshake
Summary: To Shido's delight, Kurusu is a Metaverse user who offers his services to him.To Akechi's dismay, Shido begins to take a strong liking to him.For Kurusu, it's not much more than a game.





	1. Kurusu's Entrance

**Author's Note:**

> **May-December relationships refer to those where the partners have a large age gap. Plus, the time range of this story is (practically) May through December. Some things just write themselves, y'know?**

When Akechi first meets Kurusu, he hates him.

“Kurusu also knows about 'that world'.” Shido explains with a devilish smile, as if showing off a new toy. As if this _wasn't_ the stupidest mistake of his entire life. “He's your new partner.”

Red hot rage blinds Akechi. A single thread is keeping him from bursting with anger. He did hate embarrassing himself in front of Shido, after all. He crosses his arms tight across his chest, directing his burning gaze towards his father. “I don't need a 'partner'.”

Akechi closes his eyes and turns his back to the raven haired boy. He looks hopeless. Doe eyed and dumb. Killing him would probably be so easy.

Kurusu leaves when instructed, and then father and son occupy the quiet office. “It's almost like you _want_ to die.” Akechi seethes. “Picking up any Metaverse wanderer off the street now? You are so careless.”

He begins pacing, arms still locked together. A crowbar couldn't pry them apart.

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were worried about me,” Shido sneers. “He found me. Through you.”

Akechi stops, whipping his head so fast he could've broke his neck. “What?”

“He followed you. And from you found me.” Shido's brow lowers, darkening his eyes. “Don't call me careless when he very easily could have killed you. You're lucky he's on my side.”

Akechi scoffs, yet his heart races. Someone else bestowed with the same blessing as him? Why, who, _when_?

“This isn't up for debate either,” Shido continues. “You'll be working together from now on.”

“You're trying to replace me.”

“There's no replacement in having a partner for Christ's sake. If anything, I'm doing you a favour. You'll have more time to keep up that idol persona of yours. Keep the public on your side.”

Akechi doesn't look at Shido. He can't agree with him. Putting on that facade, smiling in front of cameras, that isn't a favour. That is torture. Even if it did help serve Shido in the long run, that is the worst part of his job. Couldn't he just fake his own death, then he could serve at Shido's side forever...

But now he has competition. The only source of comfort in this is that he knows what his father does to people who outlive their purpose. One day, after Shido becomes prime minister, he'll give Akechi the order to have his 'partner' murdered. Then it'd just be the two of them again.

One day...

Still, his nod is reluctant, and he can't even meet Shido's golden eyes. It's enough though, and he's dismissed. He tries to relax his arms at his sides as his briskly walks out of the office. He tries to think of something that'll calm him down, like imagining the many different ways to kill Kurusu, the feel of his blood against his skin, watching the life leave his eyes, yet he's still on edge. Because until that one fateful day, he's going to have to look at Kurusu, talk to Kurusu, work with Kurusu.

 

**

 

Unfortunately, Kurusu isn't hopeless, doe eyed or dumb. He carries multiple Personas in a single mask, is a proficient fighter, and probably didn't need his help at all. Not that Akechi was helping. They had the same target, but friction he caused made them go about it different ways.

Fortunately, Shido didn't need to know any of this. He just needed to know the man he wanted dead was dead, and that neither of his 'wild cards' were. It didn't matter that it wasn't Akechi that killed him either, he still told him he did a good job, and that he'd call him again when he needed him.

Unfortunately, Akechi recognised the lustful glint in his father's eyes, and who they were directed at. If Kurusu noticed, he didn't show it, simply walking out of the office after all was said and done. Akechi scowls. He doesn't even bother to hide it. It pains him to no end, knowing that he isn't Shido's only sexual partner, and probably never will be. But Shido is _his_ , _he's_ the only person as disgusting, demented, depraved as Shido, therefore is the only person who deserves him. Voicing these complaints however would only earn him violent repercussions, he knows.

“Do you have business here?” Shido asks, bringing Akechi back to the present, still scowling in his office. Shido's tone of voice is bordering on irritated, and he's the only one who is allowed to initiate sex between them. Whenever Akechi tries, he's pushed away as being too clingy, too desperate, too unattractive.

He turns to his father, pleading silently with his eyes what he wants, yet Shido grunts, returning to work on his laptop. “Leave.”

Resent, jealously, burning, stinging. In his veins, behind his eyes, through his heart. Colours and emotions and _pain_. He hardly notices himself leaving.

 

**

 

It's been a month. One whole month since Kurusu joined Shido's forces. The 'winning team'. It isn't hard work. He worked with Akechi once, though he quickly realised two overpowered Persona users against a single unit was pointless. Plus, Akechi hated him. He doesn't see Akechi often, but those heated gazes stayed with him a while. Then he stops caring. He's only said about three words to the boy. He doesn't know which word it was that made him so hated. He stops thinking about it.

Kurusu finds himself in Shido's office again. The politician is standing, looking over Tokyo through wall sized windows. It's so cliché Kurusu has to roll his eyes. “Sir.”

Shido beckons him over. Kurusu walks to his side, giving him one glance before eyes rested on Tokyo at dusk. It _is_ a nice sight, to be honest.

“Akechi could learn a lot from you,” Shido says finally, sitting at the chair by his desk. Kurusu continues to stand because there's not another seat available. Not an interpersonal room then. “You're quiet, for one. I like that.”

Part of Kurusu is thankful that he isn't called here just to be given another name to dispose of, but he didn't need personal assessment from an old man. “Although, there are some things you could learn from him too.” Shido pats his left thigh. “Sit.”

Kurusu hesitates for only a moment before reclining on Shido's lap. His head practically falls onto Shido's, lips meeting in a brief kiss before he jerks back, tossing his glasses onto the desk. Shido chuckles, the deep vibration making him squeeze his legs together slightly. They settle into another kiss, hot and wet, like they've been doing this forever.

“I don't need him to teach me anything,” Kurusu whispers against Shido's lips. “What do you want me to do, sir?”

Shido pulls back to look at Kurusu. He won't see any hint of embarrassment or humiliation in him, aside from flushed cheeks. Then again, the old man did look a little endearing with pink in his own cheeks. Kurusu grins. “You hardly look experienced,” Shido says doubtfully.

“There's more to do in the Metaverse than just kill, y'know...”

Shido laughs. “Horny kids. On your knees.”

Kurusu doesn't immediately obey. He wiggles his hips, feeling the package he'll be dealing with grow against his ass. He kisses from Shido's jaw down to the first fastened button of his shirt under his collarbone. Then he slowly sinks to his knees, maintaining eye contact right up until he unbuckles his belt. The zipper to his slacks are tugged down at a snails pace, Shido huffing.

“Hurry it up.”

Kurusu smiles. He's obviously used to getting his way. If possible, Kurusu pulls more slowly, laughing at Shido's curse.

“Stupid brat,” Shido breathes once Kurusu is finally done. Gloved fingers reach inside plain briefs, pulling out the main event. Kurusu's eyes sparkle at the sight of such a large cock, one that isn't even fully erect yet. He strokes it leisurely, beginning to think of all the things he'd like this cock to do to him. In his ass, in his mouth, in his hands. During morning, evening and night.

“How dare you keep this from me,” Kurusu growls.

Shido smirks, wrapping his hand over the boy's own, pushing the head towards his lips. “Cockslut.”

Kurusu hums in agreement, kissing the tip, gently lapping at the beginnings of moist from the slit. Then, after a grin reeking with mischief, he takes half of the penis into his warm, awaiting mouth. Shido bucks his hips up in surprise, forcing more of himself in Kurusu's mouth. They both moan, the teen sucking heartily, smiling with his eyes. They stare fixedly at one another as he bobs his head, a hand stroking the remaining length, the other squeezing Shido's thigh.

“Fuck...” Shido mutters.

Kurusu's eyes gleam, he pulling back, thick saliva joining his lip and the tip. “Please,” he whispers. He takes the older man's bigger hands, placing them on his head. Fingers grip the dark, curly locks immediately. “Please... fuck.”

Kurusu's mouth isn't empty another second longer, the member being shoved in. Kurusu can't stop moaning or drooling, barely able to focus on Shido's any more. So he stops trying to focus at all, letting his mouth be fucked as if it were his ass. His vision glazes over with tears, he wishes he could scream about how happy this makes him. The very concept of a gag reflex is erased from his throat, all of Shido covered by the wet embrace of his tongue, the musky scent of sweat and pubic hair invading his nose.

Heaven.

His head is yanked back, he gasping. Air. He did need that. Sweat, saliva and precum coat the lower half of his face, tongue poking from his mouth. “ _More_...” he begs softly. “Cum in my mouth, please sir...”

Kurusu doesn't wait, wrapping swelling lips around Shido's dick again. Back and forth, in and out. Then Shido meets him halfway, thrusting fully into his mouth. Then again. And again. A fast rhythm is quickly set, heavy breathing and muffled moans filling the room. Shido isn't as vocal and Kurusu thought he'd be, but that hardly deters him. He sucks harder, manoeuvring his tongue to trace along prominent veins. And just watching the man become undone because of him... If he thought the faint pink in Shido's face was cute before, then seeing his face almost completely red is unbearably sexy.

The timing of his thrusts starts to become less and less reliable, harder and slower. There's a low rumble within Shido's throat, and a pleased hum from Kurusu as the first squirt of semen hits his tongue. Even as his mouth slowly fills with it, he doesn't stop servicing the politician for a second. His head is wrenched back once more, the last few strips of cum landing on his face instead.

“Fuck...” Shido grunts. “Fucking whore.”

Kurusu only smiles, opening his mouth to show off his treasure. He's still smiling wickedly as he swallows it all down, licking his stained lips. “What did you want Akechi to teach me now?” he purrs.

Shido shakes his head, leaning back on his chair. Kurusu rests his head on his thigh, staring dreamily at the cock he sucked off. There's no movement for a while as they regain their steady breaths and cool flustered faces. Only during the inactivity did Kurusu remember his own erection, pressing hard against the crotch of his trousers. He looks up at Shido, who has started tucking himself away, pressing down creases in his clothes.

“You aren't going to fuck me?”

“Later.”

Kurusu giggles. “Don't have as much stamina as we used to?”

“Brat.” Then Kurusu jumps when Shido presses a shoe against his obvious tent. “You hardly deserve that much of me so soon. Now wipe your God damn face.”

He's pushed away from Shido, standing up and rubbing away various liquids from his face as best as he could. No doubt he still looked questionable. Shido offered no words on his appearance.

He takes his glasses from the desk, placing them back on his face. “Good evening, sir.”

“I look forward to having you bent over this desk.”

Kurusu smirks, blowing a kiss as he saunters out of the office.

 

**

 

Kurusu is different the next time Akechi sees him. He's wearing all the same clothes as he does usually, hands covered with red gloves, shoes and trousers such a deep black he can't tell where one begins and the others ends, the crimson waistcoat that exposes toned arms. He looks the same, messy black hair and dark framed glasses. He even walks the same as usual, hands in pockets like he has nowhere to go and everything to hide. Yet Akechi can tell he's different.

It's Shido.

His demeanour relaxes greatly around his father. He used to stand straight and stiff, now he switches the weight between both feet, a leisurely smile on his face. Such disrespect already? If he wanted to be somewhere else, why didn't he just go!

According to memory, it's the first time Akechi started a conversation with him too.

“Does Shido-san bore you?”

Kurusu looks up, then around, then back at him. “No,” he replies.

“I know you have ulterior motives. Shido gives you his time and attention and you act like it means shit. If you're not serious then I'll dispose of you now.”

They're walking away from Shido's office, the hallway empty. Kurusu stops however, looking confused. “I'm sorry?”

“Don't play dumb with me! What do you want from him?!”

Every second he has to spend looking at Kurusu makes him want to gouge his eyes out, which in turns makes him more mad. Kurusu does it again, shifting from one foot to another, a grin forming on his face. “Oh. Right. Do you really want to know?”

Yes! Of course he did! Only, the way it is said makes Akechi literally bite his tongue. Even without an answer, Kurusu leans forward, staring right into his eyes. “His dick.”

He is laughing as Akechi throws fists and insults. Akechi is shoved into the wall in turn, ceasing his physical assault at least. “Disgusting whore! Shit eating scum! Stay the fuck away from him!”

“He talks about you a lot,” Kurusu continues. “Says I could give you some lessons.”

“ _I'll fucking kill you_!”

 

**

 

Shido knew Akechi wouldn't like Kurusu. He's just as clingy and desperate as the woman who birthed him. Unlike her however, he actually has usefulness. It's thanks to him that he's already so high on the political ladder. That's why he kept him around. Plus, he's easy to deal with. Despite his age, he's still just a pathetic child who'd do anything not to be scolded and everything to get praised.

However, he didn't imagine Akechi's hate for Kurusu would burn so bright so quickly. Just mentioning his name would have him quacking. It's actually quite funny.

Which brings Shido to the present. Both boys stand in his office, the distance between them growing each time they both visited. Kurusu doesn't have his glasses – broken, if the bruise under his eye is anything to go by. There are also some fresh red marks on his arms, definitely scratches. Akechi _looks_ better, but Akechi's never been _okay_ to begin with.

“I heard the two of you had to be pulled apart yesterday,” Shido begins. The situation is so comical, it takes all his power to not just burst out laughing. “I don't care about what or who started it. I _do_ care about public image, however. If you're going to fight, make it less public. Cause less commotion. It's _my_ career on the line.”

Kurusu, typical rebellious brat, rolls his eyes. Upon seeing this, Akechi looks as if a vein might pop from his head. Shido coughs to try and hide a chuckle. He stands straight, heading past both of them. In the quiet, the sound of the door locking is clear.

“Shido-san?” Akechi says. He's half hopeful and half doubtful. A locked office door usually means someone is getting fucked, but Kurusu is also in the room with them. Shido can't help but smile at such a reaction, at how easy it is to read him.

“You're both being punished for it.” His gaze wanders over Kurusu's body, still slim, yet more defined, more full than Akechi. “What harm can a couple of more bruises do?”

Despite how much attention he wants to lavish Kurusu with, he goes towards Akechi first, lifting his chin and crushing his thin lips with his own. His son moans in delight, gripping onto his jacket like a lifeline. A wave of confidence seems to take over him as he kisses back. No doubt showing off to Kurusu.

“Daddy...” Akechi sighs. “I've wanted you for so long now...”

“Take your clothes off.”

Akechi obeys. Kurusu is sitting on his desk now, eyebrow quirked. “'Daddy', huh?”

“It's sexy. And ironic,” Shido states, as if that explains anything. It's hardly counts as irony. He walks over and meets Kurusu in a kiss. It's more mature, controlled. The way their tongues slide against each other, lips grind together. Somehow, it's more exciting than with his own son. He ends it quicker though. He knows he'll lose himself if he's not careful.

“I want you naked,” he commands. Kurusu tilts his head as if he didn't understand. _Brat_. “I won't fuck you otherwise.”

“Do it yourself,” Kurusu says, sticking out his chest.

There's a grunt behind Shido, and Akechi looks ready to start scratching again. He grins. “Akechi. Take off his clothes.”

The boy looks offended. But he doesn't need any more prompting. He's a rain cloud as he moves over to Kurusu, and with no regard for anything other than accomplishing his mission, he rips the waistcoat open. A couple of buttons fly, one landing by Shido's foot.

“My father said take your clothes off, you ungrateful bastard!” Akechi exclaims, yanking down on his trousers. Kurusu discards the waistcoat with a huff, kicking off his shoes and leg wear, then kicking Akechi away from him.

Shido captures him in his arms before he can fly back for revenge. “Good boy,” he whispers into his ear, and like magic, Akechi melts into the embrace. He gasps when Shido takes his flaccid penis in his hand, slowly stroking him. Kurusu and Shido make eye contact.

“Is he really your son?” Kurusu asks.

Never breaking their gaze, he bites down on Akechi's shoulder, earning him a cry of pleasure. He licks around the area, smirking. “Is the thought turning you on? Watching me fuck my own child? Listening to him beg for his father's cum?”

Kurusu doesn't need to look down to know he's becoming hard. Akechi is pushed away suddenly, he stumbling to not trip over himself. Shido goes round his desk, sitting on his chair. Without a word, the boys stand in front of him, completely naked aside from their gloves. He uses a finger to gesture Akechi closer, and thin hands go for his belt. Surprisingly, Kurusu starts to unbutton his shirt, helping him shrug it and his jacket off. He was stripped bare fast, the way Kurusu checks him out not going unnoticed.

“You sure are fit for an old man,” he says. Shido can't help his chuckle.

“Both of you, on your knees.”

Akechi was on all fours before he finished his order. Kurusu, as usual, doesn't care. He leans in for another kiss, and Shido gives it to him. A curious hand explores his chest, lowering to his abdomen, and lower still. A leather hand pumps his cock, Shido holding back a moan, it coming out as a rumbling in his throat. Kurusu pulls back from the kiss this time, grinning at him, making sure he is watching as his knees meet the carpet.

Akechi's face is pale, brow creased as he moves forward to lick Shido's dick. Kurusu moves too, and it's the closest the man has ever seen them. He chuckles again, at how Akechi is trying so hard not to look in Kurusu's direction, or let their tongues touch. The other probably can't care any less, kissing and sucking and licking up and down the shaft.

Regardless of it all, it feels amazing.

 

**

 

Akechi hates sharing. He especially hates sharing Shido. Knowing he fucks other women is one thing, but having his and Kurusu's mouth on his cock at the same time is unacceptable. He's tempted to bite the organ, so hard it'd end his sex life completely, but then that'd also end Akechi's sex life. So he goes easy with his teeth.

He and Kurusu are sharing the same breath at this point, the same spit as they take turns giving head. It's a like they're kissing. He wants to vomit. He wants to bite _something_.

Kurusu is a lot more vocal in such a situation. One would think having a dick in his mouth would make him _quieter_ , but he loves dirty talk. For some reason, Shido does too. His breathing is heavy and face red. To see his father like this would be enough to make Akechi cum, no further touching required, but _Kurusu Kurusu Kurusu_.

The slut is ruining _everything_.

“Whose mouth do you prefer?”

He'd ignored everything the black haired trash had been saying up until that question. His eyes widen, mouth stopped on the side of the shaft. He looks up at Shido expectantly. His mouth, obviously. Obviously. _Obviously_.

However, Shido doesn't answer, a hand running through each head of hair. Kurusu smiles smugly. “I wonder whose ass you'll prefer too?”

“Enough,” Shido snaps, pulling both away from him. A tragedy, since it stood tall, slick with saliva. Akechi wipes his mouth, unable to look anywhere else. That is until something is dropped in front of him. Lube. “Kurusu. Desk.”

For once, the ungrateful pile of horse shit does as he's told, but can't keep his disgusting hands off his father for a single second, leaning up for a kiss and receiving one. Bile rises up Akechi's throat. Maybe he'll bite Kurusu's dick off. Shido would drop him faster than a derailed train hitting a platform.

Kurusu leaning over the desk, legs spread apart, Shido turns to look down at Akechi who has remained on his knees. The sharp smack of flesh hitting flesh is heard, and Kurusu sighs, a large hand squeezing his ass. Shido pushes a cheek aside, his intense stare still on Akechi. The bottle of lube in his hands feels like it may burn with the implication Shido is making.

“No,” he says bluntly. It's rare he's ever defiant against his father, and rarer still that it lasts longer than a few seconds (nothing a _slap punch kick_ can't solve). But this he simply _wouldn't_ do. Gloved or not, he is not soiling his hands by putting fingers into a scumbag's ass. He _won't._

“Do I have to remind you that you are being _punished_?”

“Father please-!”

Another smack of flesh hitting flesh. Akechi whimpers, holding the side of his stinging head as he stands, all rebellion diminished.

Don't cry don't cry _don't cry_.

He brings a fist down on Kurusu's back, getting a yelp in return. “Don't say a fucking word,” Akechi seethes, pouring lube directly onto his ass. A hiss.

A leather digit plunges into the pink entrance, Kurusu moaning. Akechi brings a fist down again. “ _Shut up_!”

Kurusu _laughs_. Then moans louder when a second finger joins the first. He pushes back against Akechi's hand, laughing and moaning and hissing, not resisting the punches either. _He likes it_. Akechi wants to die. Wants Kurusu to die. Wants to vomit and scream and have his father apologise for this and for _everything_.

“Stop.”

Shido's order couldn't have come sooner. He yanks his fingers out of the lubed hole, ripping his glove off and throwing it across the room. He doesn't care where it landed, so long as it was out of his sight forever. He spits on Kurusu's back, storming away, two feet from the desk. He's huddled into himself, back to the show about to start.

“You're not watching?”

“ _Fuck off_!”

He doesn't care who said it, and couldn't have been too sure with his head spinning. If it were Shido, he'll face the consequences later. He sinks back onto his knees, forehead against the carpet, arms wrapped around himself.

After they start, after there are nothing but moans and gasps and cries (that should be him him _him_ ), he presses his hands against his ears so hard he sees white.

 

**

 

It's everything Kurusu ever dreamed of and more. Shido's cock, wide and long, pounding mercilessly into him. He feels the old man's mouth on his back, his neck, leaving marks wherever he pleases. Good. He's just a fuck toy. He wants to be used, abused, treated roughly.

He can only cry out helplessly, words lost. He just wants to feel. The stretch of his ass, the arch of his back, so much heat he might suffocate in it.

Bliss.

 

**

 

Shido feels as if he might laugh. To think, the brat writhing under him just up and _gave_ himself to him. When was the last time he fucked an ass so tight? If Kurusu weren't taking it _so well_ , he'd call bullshit on his claims of having 'experience'.

He pulls out, only to toss Kurusu onto his back and drive himself back in. Legs wrapped around his waist straight away, his screams of pleasure shaking Shido to his core.

“Right here?” he whispers uselessly. Kurusu doesn't respond in any other way than those whorish cries. He bites on his neck, sucking hard. Again, under his collar. Again, on his chest. The previous guarantee of 'a couple of more bruises' may have been an understatement.

Then, in the first thing resembling awareness since he was impaled, Kurusu brings Shido's head towards his own, trying to start a kiss. This brat and his kisses... Shido gives in, biting his lip, running a tongue across it, then allowing their lips to get familiar once more. He never slows his hips – he shivers with something close to worry, wondering if he might never stop thrusting – his cock yearning for _more_. He's never been one to not give into his desires, so savours the heat of the ass, the way it squeezes him just _so_. Maybe he was an idiot before, for not fucking him after his mouth performed miracles on his cock.

He pulls back from the kiss, Kurusu lazily opening his eyes, yet his stare is so far gone Shido thinks he might as well be copulating with a corpse.

He speaks. Shido can't hear a word.

“...cum...”

“...-or _mee_...”

“Cum... for... me...”

Shido is a selfish man. He takes what he wants, when he wants, how he wants. In this kill or be killed world, what else was he supposed to do? Those unworthy get left behind, and he'd certainly never do anything _for_ anyone else besides himself. When you're as powerful as a God, what did it matter?

But when he came, eyes closed, breath hitched, and heard Kurusu's voice, overpowering everything else in the room with pure _delight_ , he couldn't help but think he did something selfless. If dedicating the sperm pumping into the whore's ass made the whore happy, then he'd do it again and again and again.

 

**

 

Before the night came to a close, he fucked his son too. Kurusu probably would have watched if he were aware of anything. He was still breathing; a good sign. His eyes were open to, but he didn't make any attempts to move from the desk until Akechi got his fill of cum too.

They clean themselves up as best they can, but Shido is definitely going to have to get a housekeeper in here overnight. Kurusu fusses over his ruined waistcoat, throwing it on anyway, if for nothing else than to try and conceal a back full of bruises. Akechi only has one glove on, though Shido can't think why for the life of him. In one of his flings, Shido's glasses had ended up under his desk, hardly noticing their absence until Akechi puts them back on his face. Sight. He knew he was missing something.

Along with his glasses, his son gives him a small kiss to the end of his lip. “Goodnight.” Solemnly, he leaves.

Kurusu wraps arms around his neck, making a show of his kiss. “Don't call me tomorrow. I don't know if I'll be able to move.” He's gone after that too, with a noticeable limp.

Shido only stays in his office a while longer, checking that all important compartments are double locked, before switching off the light and heading home.

Nobody made kids like they used to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **(Shido: “I care about public image.”  
>  Also Shido: literally has sex with a couple of teenage boys in front of a window overlooking all of Tokyo.)**
> 
> **Another child of God has strayed from His light to bring you this mess. I um... am maybe a little too interested in Shido/Akira and Shido/Akechi, but I have very specific tastes (I just want Akira and Akechi to hate each other...) so I was forced to write this. _Forced._**
> 
> **TBH I was soo intimidated by writing Shido's POV until I realised that it's just insulting Akechi. And if I'm good at one thing, it's insulting Akechi.**
> 
> **This is supposed to be one of those porn with plot fics, but... I'm not good at writing smut. It feels repetitive? I dunno how y'all kids do it.**
> 
> **(the worst thing about this AU is that Akechi can't call Akira attic trash...)**


	2. Akechi's Act

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings for many mentions of and actual throwing up in this chapter.**

 

Six months. Half a year. Too long.

Akechi doesn't see Kurusu everyday, but seeing him _at all_ makes the back of his head spin and burn with a desire to put a gun in his mouth and end it. But he can't think of Kurusu now, or his father, or suicide. He's scheduled for an interview, and needs to prepare mentally. None of the above thoughts are helping him.

The soft touches of makeup being applied to his face did always soothe him slightly. His eyes are closed, and for once, the images of murder and death don't appear behind his eyelids. Nor does Shido, smirking down at Kurusu, fucking him senselessly. Nor does Kurusu, and he's certainly not wearing a sickening grin that makes Akechi want to drive a knife into his neck. His mind is blank. Completely. Utterly.

Ridiculous.

“Akechi-kun?” He opens his eyes. One of the ladies doing his makeup smiles at him. He bites his tongue, forcing himself into reality, forcing himself to smile back. “We're done.”

“Thank you,” he says, standing from his seat. The lady reminds him of the way to the set, despite the fact he doesn't ask. He walks out, biting his tongue hard enough to remind his mind not to wander. It's lights camera action here.

“Akechi.”

Crash. He bites too hard, tasting blood. He turns stiffly, and why why why why is Kurusu standing behind him, smiling his usual shit eating smirk, begging Akechi to wipe it into the pavement. He chuckles. “Don't look too excited to see me. I was passing by. Good luck.”

He could've been a phantom, because after that he turns to walk away, then he's gone. Did that even happen? Is his mind so gone it's torturing himself? He still tastes blood. He holds his head, leaning against a wall.

Could time stand still for one second? Could the Earth wait _one fucking moment_ while he caught up? Caught himself before he fell too far?

He hears his name. He looks up, and a man tells him something. He can't hear anything. Bile. Blood. Lights. He thinks he smiles. Maybe he screams.

 

**

 

“It's unlike you,” Sae says, glancing from him to her laptop at her desk and back again. “Are you sure you're okay?”

 _No_. “Quite alright. Maybe it was something I ate.”

He's in Sae's office, cradling a paper cup of coffee. After the phantom Kurusu paid him a visit, he rushed himself to the toilet to surrender his insides. His interview was graciously cancelled, though he did spend as much time in the bathroom as he would've done on stage. Disassociating and throwing up were a _great_ mix.

However, by the end of it, he did feel a little better than usual. He didn't want to go back to his lonely, cold, dark apartment, and could never face Shido after something like that. Luckily Sae is always working and hardly at home herself. She doesn't pay him much mind, but doesn't really need to. It's more attention than Shido would've given him.

Sae lets out a large exhale, no doubt looking over a large file of evidence. He offers a weak smile when he asks, “Are _you_ alright? A few hours sleep may do you good.”

“You're one to talk,” her response is sharp. Typical Niijima. “I just need to finishing organising a couple of case files, then I'll head home.”

Akechi took note of the time. Three in the afternoon. He knows she'll probably only begin leaving at ten in the night. “I am here for a reason,” he says.

“You're sick.”

“I _was_ sick. I'm fine now.”

That is all the persuasion she needed before she threw a physical file at the end of her desk. He scoots over to it, and they work in silence.

He's thankful for Sae's existence. Thankful that there is a single person in all of Japan who makes him feel like a proper functioning human being, and not a mound of flesh held together with gum, staples and sellotape. Thankful she doesn't ask too many questions about his life. Thankful she indirectly keeps him grounded – her rapid typing, the scent of her perfume, her annoyed grunts from time to time.

He may not be _himself_ around her, but it's good enough that he feels he doesn't even need to be.

 

**

 

During his time working with Shido, Kurusu begins to let himself into the politician's office uninvited. Shido was pissed the first few times, but then accepted that it was something Kurusu wouldn't stop doing, probably _because_ of how much it pissed him off. They didn't (usually) do anything, as Shido was actually working. So many phone calls, documents to sign, meetings to organise, campaigns to run and fund and maintain. No wonder the old man doesn't have a single hair on his head. Being a spectator must be giving Kurusu greys, he can feel it. Yet he stays, even advising Shido to invest in a second chair for the room. In a strange way, it sort of becomes their space.

Today, Kurusu walks in on one of his breaks. The scent of alcohol lingers in the air, and sure enough, a short glass with caramel coloured liquid sits on the desk, the bottle next to it. There's also an empty glass too – was Shido expecting him? How sweet.

The man himself is lighting a cigarette, glancing to Kurusu before turning his head elsewhere. “You should try eating,” Kurusu says.

“Did you bring me anything?” Shido snarls.

“I'm not your mother.”

He makes a note to bring food during his next visit. Takeout ramen? Sandwiches? Something sweet, perhaps?

Despite the second chair he suggested, Kurusu goes around the desk to sit on Shido's lap. He swipes the cigarette from his lips, putting it between his own. “This is a bad habit.”

Shido scowls, but does nothing more than pull another stick from the pack in his pocket. He gives Kurusu the lighter, who lights it up for him, as if routine. Quiet moments like this together are very nearly domestic. The age gap between them probably fit two generations, however... it feels nice.

Shido reaches for his tumbler of whiskey, taking a sip after holding his cigarette between two fingers. “Want some?” Kurusu shakes his head. He watches as the man downs the liquid in one gulp, setting the glass on his desk. He brings a dirty ashtray under Kurusu's cigarette, just as the burnt end drops. “Messy brat...” Kurusu grins, taking the tobacco stick from his mouth and squashing it in the ashtray. Shido scowls again, chucking the porcelain back on the desk. “Don't just waste these.”

“You're so easy to upset,” Kurusu grins. “I see where Akechi gets that temper from.”

Shido scoffs, taking a drag of his cigarette, then pouring more liquor into his glass. His face relaxes all of a sudden, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I have a surprise for you.”

Kurusu lifts an eyebrow, it going unseen into his mess of curls. He almost sounds nice. “I realised you like an audience, don't you? You want people to watch you lose yourself on a big cock, hmm?” Kurusu sighs in delight at the thought. “Just confirming. It just means you'll enjoy the surprise more.”

His mind races. Is Shido going to broadcast him to Tokyo? All of Japan? No, probably not. It's likely to just be a few other colleagues of his, but even still... Eyes staring at him as he rides Shido, looking at him like a piece of meat-

“Don't think about it too much,” Shido interrupts him. A hand pats his crotch, warming the beginnings of his erection. A saucy smile shows his white teeth, a dangerous glint in his gold eyes. Kurusu kisses him, hard and passionate. Moments of spontaneity like this are why Kurusu started wearing contacts, the previous bumping of two pairs of glasses as he tried to kiss one of the few things that got under his skin. He tastes the ash and alcohol on Shido's tongue, thinking that literal shit would probably taste amazing so long as it was in Shido's mouth.

The old man pulls back, checking his watch, but Kurusu is on him again like a heat seeking missile. He nips and sucks on his jaw and neck, rubbing his cheek against the prickling facial hair. Straddling one leg, he ruts against him, making his arousal known. Shido takes one last drag of his cigarette before snubbing it out, groping Kurusu's ass firmly. He moans, wanting nothing more than to be bent over, hoisted up, pulled down, anything that meant he could have Shido deep inside-

A phone buzzes, it's vibrations against the wooden desk making it sound louder than it really is. Shido sighs, picking it up while pushing Kurusu away. Right, these are still his work hours after all... Rules and boundaries have never stopped Kurusu in the past though, and wouldn't stop him now.

He stands up, shimmying out of everything below his waist, placing his bare butt on the desk. He picks up the whiskey that Shido poured for himself, grinning when met with a cold stare as he takes a sip. The strong burning makes him shiver, but keeps sipping until the glass is empty. His stomach is warm with the alcohol, the searing becoming pleasant. He traces a red hand over his waistcoat, down to his pelvis, over his cock. He has Shido's attention, though not enough of it. He still responds to the caller at his ear, still listens to their words.

“Shido...” Kurusu breaths, stroking his length. “ _Shido_...”

“I need it done sooner than that,” Shido snaps at the caller, eyes following the path of Kurusu's hand with intensity to match his words. “Time is of the essence.”

The teen licks his lips, moving his hand faster, harder. He sucks gasps in between his teeth, running a finger across the tip until it starts to leak. The feeling of leather on his cock has always done it for him, he tossing his head back as he continues to play with himself rough and lovingly. “I want you,” he hisses. “to fuck me, Shido.”

The man in question hums, whether because of Kurusu or something said on the phone, he doesn't know. But Shido does jab a finger in the direction of one of his desk drawers, and Kurusu stifles a laugh. He reaches down to open it, finding the lube bottle. It'll need to be replaced soon.

He thoroughly coats fingers in the liquid, changing his position so his one man audience has a clear view. He leans over the desk, legs spread apart as he reaches under himself, teasing his entrance. He looks back as best he can, a shiver running up his spine at how closely Shido is watching, at how much he must be able to see, at how much of a whore he must look. His cock twitches.

Two fingers go in together, legs trembling with want. He adds another finger, moaning loudly as he pumps them in and out without a care. His head hits the desk, eyelids shut, fucking himself on long, slender digits. So badly does he want it to be something else. So badly does he need it to be _Shido_.

The clatter of something hitting the desk makes him open his eyes, and in front of him is the dastardly phone, screen off. Then there's a slap on his ass, a hand squeezing it. The rattle of a belt makes Kurusu drool, as if he's been conditioned too. At this point, maybe he has. His hand is tugged away from his hole, the familiar heat and weight of Shido's cock wedged in the crack of his ass. He is so so _so_ close to getting what he wants...!

Shido leans over him, breath tickling his ear. “Did you lock the door?”

Kurusu shakes his head, quite frankly not caring.

Shido bites down on his neck, the vibrations of his chuckle heating up his skin. “Maybe you'll have your audience sooner than expected.”

And with a thrust, Kurusu's mind becomes blank.

 

**

 

The residence Shido is staying is walking distance from his office, a rented level of an opulent apartment complex. It has everything necessary for a home, but the real selling point is the bar on the ground floor. Especially with how it tends to be mostly deserted at night, perfect for him to throw back shots after tedious work. Election month is fast approaching, also meaning that these long days and evenings would soon be worth it. The whole country _would_ be his, ultimately. And afterwards, everything else would fall into place.

At the moment, he needs sleep. He'd continue to dream big in his literal dreams. He takes an elevator up to his floor. He sometimes used to take the stairs, until Kurusu. An hour with that kid probably exceeds all the exercise he'd have to do in a week.

Once the doors of the lift open, he walks out and turns a corner, heading straight for his room. The shape of a human body laying by it is pretty hard to miss, however. He startles for a moment. Did someone send him a corpse? A closer inspection reveals it's just Akechi. He suddenly doesn't care if it's a corpse or not.

With a growl, he kicks his son's legs aside, causing him to stir. Akechi rolls onto his face, groaning. “Get up,” Shido snaps at him. When he doesn't immediately, he knows he's drunk. He tries to push himself up, only clumsily reaching his feet when Shido pulls him by the back of his shirt. His usual school jacket is nowhere to be seen, tie barely done up.

When Akechi looks up at Shido, his eyes widen a little, as if just noticing he was there. “Oh, Shido-san. I was waiting for you.”

His speech isn't completely slurred, surprisingly. He's talking as if there are cameras surrounding them. If he didn't look half dead, the smile he gives him would have been suited for his idol self too.

“You're drunk.”

“Oh? Hmm.” He puts a hand to his chin. “Yes.” Then he starts laughing.

A tiredness Shido can't explain crashes onto his shoulders. Akechi in any other state – minus when panting, writhing under him – is annoying. He doesn't want to imagine what he's like when intoxicated. “Leave,” Shido snarls, throwing open the door to his room. His son is hot on his heels.

“I'm angry,” Akechi starts.

“Me too.”

“I've decided I don't want to wait any longer. I want to kill Kurusu. But I need your permission.”

“No.”

“ _Why not_?!” he screams. His transformation must've given him whiplash. Shido wants to scream too. “ _I hate him_! _Hate hate hate hate hate-_!”

If Shido didn't bring a fist down on his whining child, he might never have stopped. Crying instead, Akechi grabs his jacket, trying to shake him. “Fuck me.”

He isn't serious.

“You're not serious.”

“Why not? I'm better than Kurusu, aren't I? I want to call you Daddy.”

Shido tears Akechi's hands away from him. “Get out.”

With the silence that follows, the way Akechi wipes his unpresentable face, Shido thinks he'll obey. He goes to the en suite to relieve himself, to get more comfortable, taking off everything but his slacks. But when he returns to his room, Akechi is on his bed, smiling a sickly smile.

Shido likes to think he can control his temper better than his good for nothing son, but with the way his blood boiled at the moment, he can't be too sure. “I said get out,” he grunts, stomping over to Akechi's side.

“Fuck me,” is his reply.

“Get out!”

“Fuck me! Rape me! I want you!”

Akechi struggles when Shido yanks his arm. “I'll scream! I'll scream until you do!”

He does.

He actually starts screaming.

Shido rubs his temples. Akechi is becoming like _her_. Even after death, her screams are in his ears. _Be mine. I want you. Fuck me._

Hands move on their own. A pillow muffles the screech. Shido presses harder. Harder. Harder. Legs flail, and weak fingers dig into his arms. The voice is quieter. Quieter. Quieter. The movements slow.

Shit.

Shido pulls the pillow back, dry coughs becoming wet retching. Tears fall down Akechi's face, he smart enough to turn onto his side so not to choke on his puke. He doesn't stop though, Shido not able to watch his floor and bed get ruined. Then, he's just sobbing, gasping for air, and sobbing.

Shido has a headache the size of Asia. He leaves the bedroom to go into the living area. On the couch, his dreams aren't big. They're not any bigger than the size of the bony figure passing out on his bed.

 

**

 

Shido doesn't let Akechi stay in his apartment so much as he has already left by the time Akechi wakes up. His stomach is light, head pounding, and he smells terrible. When he turns, he realises he is lying in his own sickness, hair clumped together by it. Shido saw him like this? He's too tired to cry.

He does nothing for what feels like eternity, mind blank as he lies in the bed. He vaguely remembers drinking in a blind rage, with Kurusu's face at the forefront of his mind. Whether it was the real Kurusu or another phantom, he doesn't know. He doesn't even remember coming up to Shido's place. He's still clothed, so he doubts he and his father did anything. It looks as if he was the only occupant of the bed anyway.

He sits up. It drains him. His stomach growls with more sickness and hunger. The thought of eating makes him sick. Sick, sick sick.

In the bathroom, he wants to avoid looking at himself. Shido's vanity makes it difficult, a mirror taking up a whole wall. He showers, feels sick, showers again.

Naked, he decides to face his demons; his reflection. He wipes condensation from the mirror enough to make out his face. Pale. Dark circles under his eyes. Thinning, matted hair. Did anyone really think him attractive? Did Shido? He clears more of the mirror, revealing spindly arms, a thin chest, outlines of ribs visible beneath his skin. Has he always been so _pointy_?

He can't find his school blazer. In an act of self indulgence, he wears a jacket he sees discarded in the bathroom, probably the one Shido wore the night prior. It's funny to think his father is so arrogant he can't do something as simple as picking up his own clothes, deducing that somebody else would be happy to do so for him.

He strips the dirty bedsheets. Someone else _could_ do this. There are people paid to do it. But wouldn't a stranger think poorly of Shido otherwise, gossiping to co-workers that the rising politician can't hold so much booze? Akechi finds a bucket and a sponge around the house. He cleans his mess as best he can. The sheets and his clothes go into a washing machine. Afterwards, he lays a clean bedspread.

It's hard work. He's exhausted every step of the way. But he's numb. He thinks he feels happiness, contentment. It's like he's Shido's housewife. Maybe he'll cook for him too?

It's well past two in the afternoon when Akechi is sitting at a counter in the centre of the kitchen, sipping coffee. He's waiting for the laundry to dry. Halfway through his chores he remembered he missed school. He'll have to check the lost and found for his jacket, as his phone is there too. Maybe he should be more urgent. He can't find it in himself to bother.

He's faintly aware of footsteps, soft socks against the kitchen tile. He doesn't react to his name being said by a voice that any other day would have him smashing his cup. Kurusu walks into his field of vision. Akechi offers a glance, then closes his eyes. He's too tired to be angry.

“You look like death,” Kurusu so helpfully observes. “Are you alright?”

Why did he care? Akechi has treated him like dirt under his shoe since they first met. If anything, Kurusu should be just as angry seeing him as he is seeing Kurusu. He can't understand the teen.

Kurusu gives up on Akechi answering his question, walking around the kitchen to make himself a drink. It's coffee, Akechi smells. His own is probably lukewarm by now, the half left trembling in his mug. He takes a sip. His suspicions are correct.

Akechi looks up, inspecting the other. Up until this moment, he's always been so sure of himself, so sure that Shido would obviously choose him over Kurusu. But now he has the image of his reflection burnt into his head, more of a walking skeleton than a boy almost at adulthood. On the other hand, Kurusu looks older. Acts older. While he's rebellious by nature, he has a level head, the combination of his looks and quietness making him alluring. Akechi has seen him naked, seen that he has more fat, more inches, more flush. His hair is shorter, but has more volume. His grey eyes piercing, almost omniscient. He looks more _alive_. Next to him, Akechi must be a corpse.

He holds his head in his hands. Who was he fooling? Is it any wonder Shido prefers Kurusu? If only, if only he could go back in time, killing Kurusu sooner than his chance to approach his father.

The dryer beeps. Akechi groans. Kurusu chuckles, speaking again. “You on housekeeping duties today?”

“Why are you here?” Akechi grumbles, a spark of anger flashing in his chest.

Kurusu holds up his cup of coffee as an explanation. “Have a good night?”

“Shut up.”

Akechi realises he's in nothing but Shido's rumbled jacket. Of course that would give the other the wrong idea. Or is it the right idea?

There's silence again. For the first time all day, Akechi begins to feel. It's his old friend anger, but it's a feeling nonetheless. And something is better than nothing.

“I don't know what you think of Shido as,” Akechi starts, words tumbling from his mouth without much thought. “But I know what he thinks of you as. And me. And everyone else on this planet. Dirt. A pawn. Something to be used and thrown away when he's done. He's a disgusting, selfish, paranoid man. After he wins, he'll kill you. Kill everyone who helped him. He'll do anything to stay in power, even erase those who could turn on him. Maybe even...”

Kurusu blinks, takes a gulp of his drink, then _shrugs_. “You'll just have to get him first then.”

Akechi gapes. To talk about murdering the man under his own ceiling? Walls did have ears, and he wouldn't be surprised if Shido could hear everything they're saying. “How could you _imply_ such a thing?! I... I could never...”

Another rise and fall of Kurusu's shoulders. “If it comes to that, I would.”

 _Proof_. If Akechi had his phone, if he recorded these words from this runt, if Shido really could hear them with his own ears, then, _surely then_ , he would finally be given the order to _kill Kurusu_.

Spitefully, it's too little too late. His enemy drains the rest of his coffee, placing the cup in the sink. “Sorry to intrude. Don't forget your housework.”

Ah, yes, the laundry. Wanting to keep his mind busy after a visit from the phantom devil, he gets up after Kurusu leaves. He'd iron everything, put his own clothes back on, look for his blazer and phone in the lobby, plan something for dinner, make up for however he behaved, get back on Shido's good side, get back at Kurusu, look after his appearance, stay by his father's side forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and-

 

**

 

The last call of Shido's work day is from Okumura Kunikazu. His _precious doting son_ often calls him careless, like his opinion means anything. Shido rubs the sides of his temple. Okumura is the personification of careless. Why would Shido waste his talents on stabbing himself in the back? Very very soon, Okumura would need to have an unfortunate, _deadly_ , accident.

More importantly, Shido'd need a stress reliever.

He's thinking about his favourite bottle of whiskey stored away in one of his drawers as a starter, when there's a knock on his door. He glances at his watch, furrowing his brows. He is expecting Kurusu, but isn't this a bit too early? “Come in,” he calls.

The door opens, and a teenager slips in, beige blazer, black gloves and silver briefcase in hand. Shido blinks, his mind processing what he is seeing embarrassingly slow. “Kurusu?”

Kurusu leans on the door to close it, pressing his lips in a tight line to hold in his smile. “Shido-san, you called for me?”

The way he speaks is softer than usual too. There's a beat of silence before Shido scoffs. “Why are you dressed like Akechi?”

Kurusu tips his head forward slightly, putting a hand to his chin in a thought like motion. It's damn near creepy how close it is to the way Akechi moves, even down to his stiff posture while standing. “Because,” he starts, smile becoming harder to suppress. “I want you to fuck me daddy.”

And just like that, he's lost it, doubling over as he laughs. The spectacle even has Shido break out into a grin, a few amused chuckles rising from his chest.

“No, no, wait. I've been practising this one!” Kurusu stands up straight again, chucking the briefcase to one side, clearing his throat. Shido relaxes into his seat, curious as to what the boy is going to pull out next. He jumps in surprise when Kurusu stamps a foot, taking a wider, wilder stance. “I fucking hate you Kurusu! I want you dead! Shido-san only has eyes for _me_! Fucking shit eating whore! Just die die _die_ di-fft!”

With the way Kurusu guffaws breathlessly, he actually might die. Shido shakes his head and covers his mouth, chuckling freely now. The performance became more funny when he imagines his son walking in on it. No doubt he'd have to break up a fight, but it would've been worth it, he surmises.

“Bravo,” Shido says, clapping. Kurusu bows twice, moving hair from his eyes. “I thought for sure Akechi was in the room.”

“I couldn't truly do him justice,” Kurusu grins, stripping off the clothes. “He's a funny one.”

Shido hums in agreement, watching the teen's skin come into view. Once nude, he opens the briefcase, taking out another familiar uniform. It's the clothes Shido gave to him to wear as part of his 'surprise'. The chequered skirt is far too small, the pink panties clearly visible when he bends down, pulling up the black thigh highs. He slips into the pumps, heel higher than any school would allow, tying the white shirt at his ribs instead of buttoning it up, keeping the smooth skin of his midriff and chest exposed.

He takes a smaller bag from the case, sitting on his chair opposite Shido. He opens it up and takes out a mirror and a few tubes of things. Makeup. He starts applying the cosmetics with trained hands. “How many times have _you_ played whore?” Shido asks. Kurusu doesn't answer with words, just a purr and a wink. “Don't spend too much time on it. You're face will only get messy.”

The lipstick he puts on is a deep red, and the smile he gives with such plump lips goes right to Shido's loins. He wants it, those red, thick lips framing his cock, swallowing all of him down.

Kurusu is up again, throwing the makeup bag and Akechi's uniform into the silver case. “When you're ready,” he says casually.

They don't take eyes off each other as Shido rises, stalking over to him. He stands over him, possessive, Kurusu bathed in his shadow. He lifts the boy's chin up, leaning down and capturing his lips. Luckily, Kurusu has never been passive, kissing back harshly. Black hair is soft against his hairless scalp, he tugging at the locks sharply, anticipating the moan that leaves Kurusu's mouth. Yet he takes the lip lock no further, pulling back only slightly, they breathing the same hot air.

Red lips smirk, fingers free from the confines of gloves tracing Shido's lips. “This colour suits you.”

“Brat,” Shido breathes, standing straight and using the sleeve of his jacket to wipe the lipstick residue from his mouth.

“Old man,” is Kurusu's usual retort, followed by another wink. Shido slaps his ass, getting a giggle from the kid. He should scold him for being too comfortable. He should scold himself for allowing them to become so personal. Then again, Shido has always given into his desires. And Kurusu is the very personification of his desires.

 

**

 

There are many stereotypes and criticisms surrounding politicians. They're dishonest, greedy, selfish, hungry for a position of power to erase any feelings of _powerlessness_. Shido is all of these things, but one thing he is _not_ is ugly. Kurusu is convinced he is the only exception of this undocumented rule that being a politician means you have to forget to about tending to your appearance.

Shido leads him to a room on a lower floor, brightly lit and spacious, one definitely meant for group gatherings. Only, when they enter, they aren't alone. Kurusu isn't shy, but also isn't used to having so many pairs of eyes on him, especially with the questionable getup the old man picked out for him. He doesn't entirely mind, making eye contact with the other three men in the room. He can tell they are politicians too because of how unsightly and forgettable their faces are.

Discounting the blackmail and skulduggery, it's no wonder Shido is so popular. You look at him once and you'll never forget him. With such a sharp, soul searing stare and a wicked grin that makes hearts skip beats, he's probably more suited as the cover man of an adult magazine than a prime minister.

Regardless, Shido is smiling, the door closed and locked behind them. The three other men nod a reply to Shido's greetings, but their eyes don't leave Kurusu's form. He puts hands behind his back to emphasise his chest more, like a girl just developing her breasts. He smiles sweetly, fluttering eyelashes at them.

If he took off his contacts they'd all looks the same.

“This is why you called us here?” one of them says. He's obviously the eldest, with white hair, though not much of it, and a body round from a living a life of leisure and fortune. He talks as if annoyed, but the long, slimy grin on his face gives a different mood entirely.

Shido pushes Kurusu forward, the tone in his voice light, as if talking to a friend. “Don't say I'm not a good man. You helped me, so I wanted to give you my thanks.”

Once within arms length of the older old man, he reaches out to grab Kurusu, hands thick and uncomfortably clammy. A hand strokes his chest, the other trailing down his forearm. “And what's your name, sweetheart?”

Kurusu bites his lip, pretending to look shy, though simply not deeming the haggard worth his voice.

“He's not one for words,” Shido explains. “His mouth is more proficient at _other_ things, is all.”

The senile man laughs an ugly laugh, one ugly enough to match his rotting face. Kurusu flinches as another hand touches him, running along his back, remembering that there are still two others who've yet to face his intense scrutiny.

The face connected to the new hand is that of a middle aged man, the youngest out of all the adults. He's also the most attractive least attractive person Kurusu has ever seen. His shaggy brown hair is a mess, and he desperately needs a shave. The smile he gives is lazy, and Kurusu is left wondering how this man could've helped Shido in any way possible.

The last man, Kurusu could've passed on the street a thousand times. He has a basic black bowlcut, eyes framed with silver lenses, and an unimpressive stature. His hand trembles as it touches his thigh, probably the most sexual action he's ever seen.

Kurusu closes his eyes, immediately forgetting the faces, trying to concentrate on the touch. He leans back, thankfully into someone's chest, sighing softly. Goosebumps form on his arms at how feather light they handle him. It's boring.

“He's not as fragile as he looks.” Shido's voice. What a hero.

The pace picks up gradually after that. Fingertips press harder, venture into more dangerous zones. His nipples are pinched, each time the pressure becoming a little harder until he finally gasps.

“He likes that,” one of the men whispers. His nipples are pinched harder still. Oh, now they're getting it!

Hands squeeze his ass cheeks, a mouth at his neck, biting and sucking. His breath hitches in delight, hoping that the way he thrusts his hips forward would be enough of a hint that he wants more.

“What cute underwear...”

Kurusu opens his eyes, watching the old croak tug at his panties. The friction between the soft cotton and his cock feels amazing, almost as good as leather. He'll have to invest in some ladies' underwear from now on... Hips wiggle, making the older man chuckle. “You really want it, don't you? Shameless whore.”

Kurusu stretches red lips in satisfaction, nodding. The brunet behind him reaches forward, flicking the skirt up, the head of his erection exposed to the whole room. “He's hard just from a few touches.”

Inwardly, Kurusu rolls his eyes. Their prodding is hardly anything to be proud of.

Then he jerks forward, the man behind him palming his head. He coos, rocking his hips to get the most out of it. More erotic sounds rouse from his throat as his entire length is graciously taken into the grip, being pumped quickly. Maybe this useless looking man does have some worth after all. Shido has never touched him so, always expecting to be the receiver.

On the topic of Shido... Kurusu turns his head enough to see him, reclining on a loveseat, a leg crossed over the other, a hand supporting his head. Those golden eyes are just boring into him. His expression hardly changes when they exchange glances.

Kurusu suddenly feels _hot_. When thinking about his 'surprise', he guessed that others were going to watch as Shido fucked him, yet it's the other way around. Somehow, that's _better_ than his first thought. He is Shido's puppet in the end. His whole purpose is to entertain him, and he'll be damned if he doesn't pull out a showstopper.

Kurusu moans without abandon, tossing his head back onto the brunet's shoulder. “Please...” he pants. “I want... to suck your cock...”

The decrepit man whoops, the man behind him sniggering, and the short sighted one blushes wildly with a lopsided grin. Kurusu is shoved onto his knees, he licking his lips, reaching out a hand in a random direction. The crotch of the grey slacks it lands on is stiff with the hard-on it conceals, he looking up at, who would've guessed, the skinny bowlcut one. It appears he's packing more than one would think. Eager to find out, Kurusu unzips the trousers, impatient hands reaching inside to pull out the above average penis. Not two seconds later is it in Kurusu's mouth. The man chokes on a cry, squeezing his eyes shut, gripping black curls like a lifeline.

Kurusu slides back and forth, his tongue lolling out, sloppily licking the sides. It's not as wide as Shido, but a cock is a cock. He hums happily around it, increasing his pace. He's about to stroke his own dick, but two others hitting his cheeks stop him.

“Don't forget about us, whore.”

He takes a penis in each hand, strokes firm and fast. Two of the three politicians spill encouragement, the one whose cock is in his mouth too lost in pleasure to do much more than writhe. Kurusu looks over to the chair Shido is sitting, eyes ballooning. His gaze is met with a perverted one, Shido getting an eyeful of his toy servicing three men at once while leisurely stroking himself. Kurusu moans, sucking vigorous as he watches Shido watching him, imagining it's his cock on his tongue, him that's crying out, thrusting hips as he cums, his semen he swallows...

Kurusu moves on, inhaling a second erection. “Fuck!” His excitement is met with a little resistance at first, before his head is held still, face being fucked. _Glorious_. It's not as long as the other, but makes up for that in width, stretching his lips wide around it. He's being called a slut, the slander sending a pleasant tingle down his spine. He loves it.

There's another hand in his hair, pulling him off one organ only to shove him down onto another. His cries of ecstasy are muffled, overshadowed by the wet squelching of his mouth.

“Shit! He takes it like a pro!”

Then he's being passed around, each taking turns to thrust into his mouth. They try to stick both cocks in, Kurusu only managing to drool helplessly over them, lapping at the heads like a thirsty dog.

The erotic scent secreting from the men is starting to cloud his perception. His mouth is empty when he's pushed onto his hands and knees. The panties hugging his ass are pulled down, and cold coated fingers are pushed into his hole. He pushes back against them, shivering as they explore inside of him as if curious and untrained.

“ _Hmm_... fuck... me...”

“Impatient cockslut.”

The voice could've belonged to anyone in the room, yet he doesn't care whom. His mewls are begs for more of the harsh words and rough treatment. Fingers are pulled out, and then there's something bigger pushing against his entrance. He bites his lip, shaking with anticipation. “You want it bad, don't you? Beg for it.”

Kurusu whines. He's fully aware of Shido, his presence heat in a snowstorm. He wants to look at Shido, to let him know that his next words aren't for anyone else but him.

“Please... fuck me. I'm your bitch, do whatever you want with my body... Make me your cum dumpster. Fuck me until I forget my own name! Please please _please_!”

There's laughing, a penis still resting against his asshole. “Verdict, boss?”

Kurusu opens bleary eyes, locking on with Shido's. He smirks. “Give the brat what he wants.”

For a second time, Shido is his hero.

His screams from being filled from the back are cut off when he's filled from the front. There's a weight in his hand and he pumps it. A dream come true. Kurusu sees white when his prostate is attacked, almost becoming limp. He quakes as orgasm hits, blinded by pleasure. For all he cares, he could have died. As long as he gets to feel this, two thick dicks spitroasting him, using him like a doll, working him like a machine, what did anything else matter?

 _Slut slut slut_ , they're saying. What choice did he have but to believe them? Only sluts would enjoy the sultry heat of a penis pounding into their ass, of being near suffocated from another one sliding down their throat. Only sluts enjoy when men cum on them, in them, from every side all at once. Only sluts would still beg for more after, and get exactly what they want.

Kurusu is on his back, someone entering him again. Both hands are busied, mouth either letting lewd cries escape or sucking the head of a cock. Besides the raw, lustful indulgence, Kurusu only feels Shido's stare, shooting him like a bullet. It makes his whole body flush. He just wants to please him, see him reach his climax because of him bending to the will of others. See him furrow his brows with envy and push everyone back, plunge inside him without mercy, show them how it's done...

Strings of cum hit his cheek. Molten erupts inside him. It's not Shido, but for now, it'll do.

He's tossed around again and again, riding a cock one minute and folded over the next. His shirt is ripped off, but his skirt stays on. His ass, mouth, hands tend to the three dicks obediently. There's cum on his tongue, face, chest, trailing down his thighs as it leaks from his abused hole. He's disgusting, soiled, barely human as he loses himself to _desire_.

Nevertheless, Shido doesn't miss a single moment.

 

**

 

“I told you not to bother with makeup.”

Kurusu doesn't respond. Shido's former colleagues had left a dozen or so minutes prior. Waiting for the kid to get his bearings back, Shido covered him in a thin blanket he had prepared beforehand.

It was quite a performance. What remains of his tattered, stained clothes is testament to that. The shockwave of Shido's orgasm as Kurusu cried _his_ name while on _another man's_ dick is still at the forefront of his mind. The brat knows how to boost an ego.

Kurusu groans, attempting to sit up, inevitably hissing when putting weight on his inevitably sore ass. He eyes the blanket on him, then casts a vacant gaze towards Shido. His face is cleaned off with scented wipes. It takes a few to make him seem presentable. Only, there is the rest of his body to deal with.

“You enjoyed yourself,” Shido says, kissing his cheek. Kurusu hums. “You're coming back to my place. To tidy yourself up.” He adds the last sentence after grey eyes suddenly regain focus, an expectant glint in them. “Christ, haven't you had enough?”

“I didn't have you,” Kurusu replies, voice hoarse. Shido rolls his eyes. Only _he_ would say something so sappy after a gangbang. It's another small ego boost, even a little heart warming, but doesn't have a place in their 'relationship'. Whatever that is.

“I'm not touching you till you bathe.”

“Fair.”

However, Shido does help him stand, wrapping an arm around him for support, the blanket enough to cover his privacy, though not much against the growing chill from inactivity. Kurusu huddles close to the bigger frame, the smell of _other men_ pissing Shido off more than it should have.

He brings his phone from his pocket, sending Kurusu a draft he had ready. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“Just something I think you'll find interesting.” If Kurusu's phone had been in the vicinity, they would've heard it buzzing from receiving a text. As it's not the case, Shido shows the boy the text from his own phone. Three names. Names that happened to match with the three former 'colleagues' that became closely acquainted with his wild card.

Kurusu shakes his head, his favourite cheeky grin resting on his face. “Already thinking about work? Give me a break.”

“In due time. But first, a bath.”

Kurusu steals back his attention before he manages to call his driver. “You'd better join me in my bath. It's your fault I can hardly move.”

Shido holds the phone to his ear, letting out a huff of amusement. “We'll see...”

 

**

 

Shido's bed is heaven. After such a rough evening, a steaming bath and a big, soft bed is like gold at the end of a rainbow. He sinks in, the special mattress adapting to his shape, thick duvet and pillows suffocating him in comfort. Shido gets in after him, and they shift around until they're laying cosily against each other.

“Akechi was here the other day,” Kurusu says. He doesn't know why he brings it up. Shido's probably already aware. But he's surprised that an angry exhale is his reply. He grins cheekily. “Do tell.”

“He was drunk,” Shido grunts. Kurusu gasps, leaning in closer. He must look like a gossiping granny. “He vomited everywhere.”

Kurusu whoops at the news. No wonder he looked so bad. “I should add _that_ to my Akechi Act.”

“Please don't.” Yet Shido has a faint smile on. Then it's gone. “You act like you're friends, how you're always asking about him.”

He's sure Shido feels his shrug more than he sees it. “He's funny. And I like getting under people's skin. Especially yours, old man.”

“You don't say, you dumb brat.”

If a fifty year old asshole calling him a dumb brat could be affectionate, Shido certainly achieves that. He even places a kiss on his temple. Lovers. Isn't that what they are? Aside from bringing him food to his office when working, they haven't had any dates, but they're physical. They tease each other. They're sharing a bed together, pressed up flush against each other. They kiss, they fuck, they kiss while fucking.

Kurusu doesn't hate him either. In a strange way, Shido is charming. Confident. Handsome. At the end of the day, he's an evil man. Someone who takes and never gives. Kurusu should hate him. But if he's helping the evil Shido towards his goals, what does that make him?

As though Shido could see the gears in his head working overtime, he pets his hair, fingertips rubbing the scalp. Just as he thought, Shido _is_ an evil man, using his weakness against him like this... His eyelids flutter shut. “Go to sleep,” Shido says.

“Hmm... go to hell.”

A chuckle. “After you.”

Pause. “Masayoshi.” The fingers in his curls stop. “Can I call you that?”

He moans when there's a tug on his hair. “Damn brat.”

Kurusu smiles. “That's not a no. I'll stop calling you old man.”

Shido's fingers continue his massage. “Have it your way...” He presses lips to the side of his head, whispering hotly into his ear. “... _Akira_.”

 


	3. Shido's Promise[s]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings for blood, violence and a suicide in this chapter.**

December. Election month. The course has been laid out, and all Masayoshi has to do is steer. Thanks to the dozens of people on his side, Masayoshi's victory is guaranteed. Of course, his means of getting here aren't moral, or even fair. Blackmail, bribes, lies, murder... Kurusu can't say that the role doesn't mean a lot to him if he went to such lengths for it.

Knowing this, Masayoshi's true nature, it's so weird to see him standing in public, promising to give society what they really want. And the public ate every word like they've been starved. Shido Masayoshi is their _hero_.

Kurusu doesn't see him as much any more. Sure, he goes to some speeches now and then, but that isn't the Masayoshi he wants to see. He wants the grumpy old man, the arrogant bastard, the wolfish grin as he takes and takes and takes with no regard to anyone apart from himself.

During a night that are becoming fewer, both naked in Masayoshi's bed, Kurusu chuckles as he shows the man a picture. It's of Masayoshi awkwardly holding someone's baby with an equally awkward smile, the mother beaming at him. Kurusu had laughed at it for hours after he took it. Masayoshi just grunts, pushing the phone from his face.

“I can't believe they find you endearing,” Kurusu sniggers. “Have you ever held a baby before?”

“No,” Masayoshi snaps.

“Well... that explains Akechi.”

Kurusu cackles, nudging Masayoshi to join in. He doesn't. “Go to sleep you runt.”

The teen rubs his head against Masayoshi's shoulder. “Meow~” he purrs. He buzzes as Masayoshi blushes, loving that his unconventional behaviour always earns such a reaction. A hand dutifully combs through his hair, petting him like the animal he is imitating. “Me-ow~” Kurusu purrs approvingly, settling against the man's side.

“You are so weird,” Masayoshi groans.

“You love it.”

 

**

 

Election season is busy. Between interviews, exams, and helping Sae, Akechi is mentally exhausted. Physically too. He can't relax for a second, can't slip up. Interviewers would ask about his predictions for and hopes about the new prime minister. To say good things about Shido is easy, but to say them in such a way that doesn't raise any suspicions that they are anything more than strangers, that is the difficult part.

Then again, nowadays it does feel as if they are strangers, with how little they see of each other. He tries not to think that his father spends every free moment with the uneducated dirt bag instead. That piece of trash is just as lonely as he is. Definitely.

 

**

 

Akira wears his hickeys like a brand. The loose shirt he has on slides off one shoulder, and it takes a lot of willpower for Shido not to tackle him and mark every inch of his skin. Akira wears a smile like he knows this. Bastard.

“I have to go,” Shido says, staring less at the grey eyes and more at the long neck begging for his bites.

“I know,” Akira coos. “Dinner, right?”

He flutters his eyelashes. Shido has always given into temptation, but today he _can't_. He growls, pulling the brat into a rough kiss. “When I'm Prime Minister, I'll make you mine. Take you like the slut you are.”

Akira chuckles. He's become a cat lately. Silently watching one moment, mischievously plotting, then pouncing the next. “That's a promise.”

Shido is pushed back. Akira loses the smile, straightening out his dinner jacket. “Congratulations,” the boy says.

 _I couldn't have done it without you_.

Shido frowns, tongue heavy, a bad taste in his mouth. He couldn't say that. It's too genuine, too sickly. It feels like a confession. He has nothing to confess. But it hardly feels right to say nothing at all. _I am in your debt? I'm grateful? This is just the start?_

_I..._

“Thanks.” Shido settles for something simple. Yet there's something off about the air. Words left unsaid. Both ignore it.

They say their farewells, Shido exiting the room and heading towards the lift. However, he is intercepted by another visitor. “Shido-san,” Akechi greets with a nod, walking from the elevator. “You must be in high spirits. The election is a couple of days away.”

“I am,” Shido replies, truthful. Nervous too. He doesn't know why. There's no competition, all barriers are broken, and it's smooth sailing from here on out. “Next time you see me, I'll be the rightful ruler of this country.”

Akechi beams. For the first time, his son's smile is contagious. “Congratulations, father.”

His personal space is invaded, Akechi looking up at him with glossy eyes. Shido leans down to kiss him, short and lacking passion, lacking much of anything that Shido likes. His son's face still brightens. It's disturbingly cute.

“Goodnight, father.”

Did he always refer to him as his dad so much? Akechi must be in high spirits of his own. Shido doesn't pay it much mind, taking the elevator down.

Soon, all of Japan will be celebrating his victory.

 

**

 

It's been two days since Masayoshi's inauguration. Kurusu can't escape seeing him, even if he'd want to. His name and face are everywhere on the news, his voice thanking those who supported him. Yet his physical presence is lacking. Who can blame him? Kurusu can only imagine how happy he must be though. This is something he's always wanted, isn't it? Maybe he should've gotten him a gift...?

Masayoshi texted him earlier in the day with simple instructions to meet in his old office in the evening. For nothing other than packing his belongings, preparing for his move into his new residence. _Their_ new residence. The kantei is the only home suitable for a prime minister, after all.

Kurusu takes a few boxes with him, arriving early evening to start. The office is cold from vacancy, but also tidy because of it too. He's in no rush, leisurely moving files from drawers to boxes, watching the sun set and the sky turn dark. He leaves and comes back with a couple of drinks, sipping while waiting for Masayoshi, then starting to work again after he still doesn't show.

He wonders what Masayoshi will look like, in the flesh rather than on screen, on papers, in public. Wonders what they'll say to each other. Kurusu will probably say the can of soda is his gift, and Masayoshi will grunt, look displeased, but still take it. Probably scold him too over something small, like stuffing his paperwork into boxes carelessly. Kurusu will laugh at him. Nothing will change.

He hears the door open. He smiles, starting to turn around, a teasing greeting on his tongue. “Masayo-”

The muffled bang of a gunshot slices through the air. Kurusu yells, falling, intense pain in his left shoulder. The heat of blood steams from below his squeezing hand.

He screams again, a black heel stomping on his injury, grinding into it. His vision falters for a few moments, the face above him coming into view very slowly. Akechi.

Akechi stomps again, the smile on his face almost pleasant if not for the unmistakable craze behind his eyes. Kurusu splits his lip from biting too hard, trying to hush his own cries. “ _Masayoshi_?” Akechi sneers. “You're too _cute_.” He stomps again, a flash of white blinding Kurusu for a second. He grunts, burying his face into the carpet. “I know I should kill you quickly but, the thought of having you beg for your life is actually a turn on. It's the only way your death will satisfy me.”

Kurusu's hoarse voice fills the emptiness of the room again when another bullet pierces his arm. Tears line his eyes, he forgetting how to breath when his whole left side feels only _pain_. “What's wrong? I thought you were a masochist? C'mon, you're good at begging for cock, aren't you? The only difference is it's your life now! Beg. For. Me.”

Akechi brings down his foot over the new wound after each word. Kurusu cries and whimpers, trembling with shock and pain. He chokes, breathing heavy and irregular, trying to form words harder than it's ever been.

“Yes, that's it. You're getting it! So close now...!”

“... _fuck you_...”

Kurusu yelps and hisses when the butt of the gun swings against his head. He loses sight once more, hearing becoming distorted too.

Suddenly, he's tossed around, Akechi directly in his face, shaking him. “ _Do you hear me_?! You were never part of Shido's future! _Never_! It's only going to be me and him! I'd never let _trash_ like _you_ come between us!”

Kurusu throws a fist forward, hitting Akechi in the mouth. He spirals back, his gun flung across the room. The eyes that glare at Kurusu could've burned a hole in him, set him alight, vaporised him. If only stares were weapons, Kurusu would've been dead a long time ago. Akechi settles for his hands instead, launching himself back towards his target.

Kurusu lifts arms up to protect him, immediately regretting his decision as his left arm sears with the strain, it also being taken advantage of as Akechi yanks it to one side, leaving him open for a punch to the jaw. And another to the chest, and more and more and more across his body. He flails his legs, eventually kicking the other boy off, scrambling to get his feet, to get out. However, his enemy has already pounced, keeping him on the ground.

Akechi is much stronger than he looks. Kurusu used to pity his bony figure, thinking that he could be snapped in half easily. Where are those thoughts now, Kurusu swinging legs and his right arm with all his force just to try and keep him away.

They're both panting hard, Kurusu trying to stand and Akechi bringing him back down, smashing his face against the floor. He feels his elbow crack across Akechi's nose, staggering him for another instant, watching red ooze down his lip. The red matches his deranged eyes, and he tackles him, hands wrapped around his neck.

Kurusu twists and writhes to no avail, the grip getting stronger. He flings both arms up, hands searching franticly for Akechi's face. For those inescapable eyes. The detective tosses his head around, yet Kurusu finds purchase, clawing and pressing and crushing. He's losing himself, the edges of his sight blurring, chest tightening, lungs _screaming_. The eyeballs are soft under eyelids, and Kurusu applies more pressure there.

Akechi yells, pulling back. _Air_. Kurusu breathes and breathes and breathes. He's almost numb. Movement is lost to him. He can only think of air and breathing and coughing. He hears Akechi scurry across the floor, though not towards him. He sits up quickly – too _too_ quickly, all is spinning and he wants to feel sick – remembering the gun. Loaded. Waiting to be used.

Akechi has it in his grasp and Kurusu can see his life leaving his body and Akechi cackles and grins and points the weapon towards him and-

The door swings open, revealing Masayoshi. “What the _fuck_ is going on here?!”

Both teens look up at him, faces bruised and bloody. Kurusu can't blink properly, realising that his left contact is askew. His movements are sluggish as he takes off his glove, carefully peeling the lens out.

“Father!” Akechi exclaims, the happiness in the voice unmistakable. The half correct vision leaves Kurusu more dizzy, he opting to close the left eye and just use the right.

Akechi stands in front of Masayoshi, beaming like he wasn't just trying to kill anyone, wiping the red from his face. It smears across his cheek. “Congratulations on the inauguration! You must be-”

“Cut the bullshit. What are you doing?!”

Akechi falters briefly, then laughs. “What do you mean, father? We had a promise. After you become prime minister, we'll get rid of all those who we no longer need, starting with-”

“Who is ' _we_ '?”

“Ah- Y-you and me! You said... _you said_ you'd give me anything when you win! You _promised_!”

His demeanour starts to crack under Masayoshi's intense gaze. The Prime Minister closes the door, and Akechi quakes. “F-father...! Please! Don't you remember?”

“I do.”

“Then-!”

“Did you really think I meant it? You stupid child.” Akechi bows his head as if he's been struck. “You're more trouble than you're worth. If I was going to get rid of anyone in this room, it'd be you.”

“ _No_!” Akechi screeches, dropping the gun, clutching his shaking head between his hands. “ _No no no_! _Don't choose him over me_!” He crashes to his knees, sobbing. “He's... trash! He was temporary! It was supposed to be _you and m-_!”

“ _Shut up_!”

Kurusu jumps. He's never heard Masayoshi raise his voice like that before. Akechi weeps quietly. “You useless runt. I don't have time for this. I should have disposed of you a long time ago.” He looks over to Kurusu, wincing at his state. “Fucking hell... Why must you always make everything difficul-”

“ _I love you_!”

All eyes are on Akechi. He's sniffling and shuffling over to Masayoshi on his knees. He grips his father's jacket in a vice hold, shaking him. “Father... I... I love you! I'm _in love_ with you! Please! I know you feel the same! Please, please tell me you do! Please let me make it up to you! Please let me stay by your side! Please don't let me go! Please... _please_...!”

Masayoshi's face transforms from one of surprise to utter repulsion. His voice is dark, more piercing than any bullet. “ _Pathetic child_.”

Akechi breaks. His hands slip from the jacket, irises dimming, the colour draining from his complexion. His face meets the floor by Masayoshi's feet, and he wails. His body convulses and he doesn't breathe, the erratic gasps between sobs his only source of air.

Masayoshi rubs his head, probably fighting off a headache. He steps around his son to go over to Kurusu, who is hardly aware of himself after watching the tragedy play out before him. The old man's voice and touch is unusually soft, cursing as he looks over the wounds. “We have to go,” he says.

“You're paperwork,” Kurusu murmurs, using his head to gesture towards the boxes on the desk. Masayoshi doesn't look over, helping Kurusu up.

“I'll come back later. People are waiting for me.”

Kurusu nods. It is strange how no bodyguards accompanied Masayoshi. He probably told them to hang back. Kurusu has to put a lot of his weight on him, weak and woozy. The two only manage to make it to the door before Akechi's voice stops them.

“Kill me,” he chokes. They turn to look down at him, tears still rolling down his cheeks, he holding himself tightly. “Can't you at least do that? I'd rather die than watch you spend another second with _him_.”

Kurusu's eyes widen when Masayoshi snatches the gun from the floor. He holds it out for him, despite the fact that his only available hand is clutching his still bleeding shoulder. He interrupts Masayoshi's command before it's even spoken. “I refuse. How are you going to explain a dead body – _Akechi Goro's body_ – here? We're _not_ killing him.”

Kurusu would only murder in the Metaverse. When there's no traces, no evidence, no physical body to factor in, no blood to wash off, it made it so much less personal. It makes it feel like a game. He shivers with unease. Would Masayoshi really just let him shoot Akechi there and then? Without thinking of _any_ consequences? He doesn't know if that's stupidity or something a lot more sinister.

Masayoshi sighs, rolling his eyes but not demanding anything more. He puts an arm around Kurusu, the touch now unwelcome. Kurusu doesn't shake him off though. He's led from the room, Akechi's cries and pleas ignored. The familiar path they take to the exit is intercepted by a couple of men in black suits. They immediately start fawning over Masayoshi, asking if he is alright and checking that he is okay, but he shrugs them off. Akechi's gun is still in his hand, and he passes it to one of them to get rid of. They gawk at it, only then looking at Kurusu, noticing his injuries.

“Stop slowing us down!” Masayoshi snaps at them. “There're doctors at the kantei, yes? Then hurry it up!”

The cold December air is salt on his wounds. Kurusu purses lips together, squeezing both eyes shut. He lets the old man guide him into the awaiting car, where everything is so much warmer. He doesn't open his eyes as he settles, sinking into the heated seats, probably leaking blood onto the leather. In the back of his mind, he hopes it pisses Masayoshi off.

In the front of his mind however, is discomfort and pain. Is Akechi's face and voice. His tear stained cheeks and messy hair, such contrast between eyes filled with murderous intent. Images are already beginning to get jumbled, and adrenaline pours from his body like his own blood. It's the first time Kurusu has fallen asleep with Akechi in his mind, wondering if they'll ever see each other again.

 

*

 

Shido is exhausted. The previous night, Akira was taken to hospital after the on-site doctors treated his as best they could. There were questions in their eyes as to how someone so young acquired a couple of bullet wounds, and what relation he even has to Shido. It hardly matters what they thought. Everyone under him knew that words out of line would mean worse, untreatable bullet wounds.

After going back, guarded, to his office to finish where Akira left off, he slept with one eye open, which hardly counts as sleeping at all. There were no traces of Akechi.

He spent the day in the face of the public once more, then retreating with his cabinet back to the kantei to further flesh out the beginning steps of his rule. There, at least, he could be looser. Nobody forced a smile or good word out of him.

It's late evening Shido sees himself searching for the clinical office in the main building. The kantei is huge, and in daylight would shine just as bright as Shido's own pride for making it in. Yet he can hardly care to take in everything when he feels bags growing under his eyes. He goes around in a circle before he finds himself on the right path, soon standing outside the door. He opens it without knocking.

Akira was brought back from the hospital earlier in the day. Being Prime Minister meant all hopes of trying to sneak around had vanished, and he didn't want to be seen visiting Akira in public. A few people working for him questioning their relationship is fine, but the whole country? That, he doesn't need.

A male nurse and Akira look up as he comes in, the latter sat on a bed, bandages noticeable from under loose clothes and a brace around his left elbow. “Sir,” the nurse greets, bowing low. “The boy's condition is mostly fine. The worst of it was the minor surgery to collect the bone fragments in his arm. He'll need rest for the wounds to heal properly.”

Shido just nods. Akira doesn't look too fazed. He's sitting up, scrolling through his phone. Shido is the one who needs rest.

The nurse excuses himself, leaving the room. And Shido didn't even have to tell him so. Akira's attention is absorbed by the phone, not looking towards Shido even when the chair he pulls up scrapes across the floor. He takes a seat. He expected to be greeted with something teasing or witty. He clears his throat. Akira doesn't move.

“You've something on your mind?” Shido asks. The boy shakes his head. “Then where's your usual charm? I didn't keep you this long just to have you go brain dead.”

Akira chuckles, though it lacks humour. “Someone clearly has never been shot.”

“And what do you do with your enemies in the cognitive world? Have tea?”

“It's different in the Metaverse. Injuries aren't permanent. Your senses aren't the same. I'm usually prepared for attack. Your psychotic son isn't the one pulling the trigger.”

Shido scoffs, and a silence follows. Akira puts his phone to the side, shaking his head. “Did you send him? To kill me?”

“No,” Shido tuts.

“Are you going to have me kill him?”

“Sooner rather than later.”

Akira scowls. It doesn't suit him. “I won't.”

“You will. He knows too much for someone no longer on our side.”

“No longer? I think our side is the _only place_ he knows. He told you he lov-”

“Please don't remind me.”

Sleeping with your son is one thing. There's a thrill to it, doing something so scandalous. Ejaculating inside of him, filling him with the same sperm that made him in the first place. It used to have Shido shivering from excitement. But then having your son confess to you? It made him gag. Akechi is exactly like his mother before him. Fun one moment, then clingy and despicable the next. He grew tired of her and now he's tired of him.

Even just hearing his name made Shido feel even more exhausted. Akira continues speaking. “Akechi told me something a while ago. I didn't think much of it, but after what happened... He told me that after you became Prime Minister, you'd use us to get rid of all those who helped you get so far, including ourselves. I thought getting rid of _two_ Metaverse users would be beyond stupid, even for you. But he's right, isn't he?”

Malice twists Shido's heart. He doesn't reply.

“I won't let you kill me, Shido.”

When was the last time Akira had referred to him by family name in private? He stands, snarling. “What makes you think he's right? I told him I'd only have him kill those who have no more purpose. I didn't know you were so lacking in self confidence that you think you fit the bill.”

Akira laughs. “Are you trying to flatter me?”

“You couldn't kill me even if you wanted to.”

“I like a challenge.”

Shido knows Akechi won't fight back when the time comes for his demise. Akira, on the other hand, he can't be so sure. He's an asset Shido can't afford to lose, an irremovable bullet that he's become used to. If he had to die, then he'd die, end of story. But that doesn't mean it won't be regrettable.

Somehow, the talk of death is bringing out more of Akira's usual attitude. He did like to get under Shido's skin, didn't he? They aren't the sort for sentiments.

“I'll keep you around so long as you're useful.” Shido says. “Though knowing you, you'd take me out just to piss me off.”

“Take you out? On a date?”

“You know what I mean, brat.”

Akira's smile doesn't reach his eyes. Not good enough. He needs to trust Shido again. Fully and unwavering.

Shido leans down to kiss the boy on the lips. It's been a while, hasn't it? The last kiss they had was in the old apartment before his inauguration... “We had a promise, didn't we?” he breathes against Akira's lips. “That I'd fuck you when I became Prime Minister. You just had to go and get shot, huh.”

The boy giggles. “You sound disappointed. Though if what you said to Akechi is anything to go by, promises don't mean much to you, do they?”

 _Shit_. That shitty dumb child of his. Saying things he had no right to, sticking his nose in business that didn't concern him. Yet Akira still giggles. “You're scared.”

“Huh?” Shido gapes.

“You're scared of me. It's cute. I like seeing you try to win me over.” Akira's grin is absolutely mischievous. Shido huffs, stepping back and crossing his arms. Personally, he wouldn't used _scared_. He's hardly scared of someone who hasn't even reached manhood yet. Is there anything wrong with simply being cautious? “You don't have to deny it, Masayoshi. I'd hate to see you get lonely.” Akira pretends to wipe tears from his eyes.

“You're spouting bullshit.”

“I think you've been spouting so much of your own shit for the last few months you don't know what truth is. You can't trust anyone. You want to get rid of everyone who could speak out against you to secure your position. You're lonely. It's no wonder you're a grumpy old man. So I'll stay. I won't show my claws unless you scratch first. That's what you wanted to hear, right?”

No. Not all of it. He didn't need the truth laid out for him by some sex addicted _teenager_. Shido holds a neutral expression throughout. “What's in it for you?”

“Me?” Akira ponders a moment. He doesn't even know himself? “We're all the same, really. You, me and Akechi. You and him are both so transparent. We're all murderers. Irredeemable, evil manipulators. Ultimately, I guess we all want the same thing too. You.

“Akechi wants to be by your side as your one and only. You want everything for yourself; power, the world, etcetera. And I want you too. You can have others, I don't care, but you're to rely on me. In times of hopelessness, you'll come to me. I don't even have to say yes. I'll be your equal, even your superior at times. To see _you_ humbled? Well, nothing would get me off better than that.”

Pause. Then, Shido begins laughing. Akira joins in. The kid couldn't be serious. Equal? _Superior_? Shido could drop him like a hat... he'd _make_ another Metaverse user. He doesn't _need_ Akira. It's _convenience_ that's keeping him around. He'd be _perfectly_ fine without him.

His laughter comes to a graceless halt.

The boy settles into the bed, yawning. It reminds Shido of how tired he is. He's going to be swamped with nothing but work for God knows how long. He should get to bed himself. He knows that Akira is both not dead and on his side for the foreseeable future. It's good enough. “Masayoshi.”

“What?”

“I know you're too prideful to say it, so, you're welcome.”

Shido makes a sound of exasperation, almost regretting that Akira is next to normal now. Almost. He's about to leave when a familiar meowing is heard. He knows it's not a real cat, scowling as he turns back to Akira, who is smirking and meowing like a freak. It's humiliating. Shido goes over to him, bending down and pressing their lips together once more. It's a longer kiss, both putting equal effort into it.

Akira is chuckling, and Shido pulls back, glaring at him. “What's so funny?”

“How blind you are. I've conditioned you into giving me attention just by meowing like a God damn cat.” He licks his lips, a hungry gaze looking Shido up and down. “I wonder what else I can train you to do...?”

“I'm not your pet,” Shido growls.

“Okay. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

 

**

 

Akechi is cursed. At all corners of his life, he's met with misery, pain and abuse. Glints of what could be happiness are snatched away before he has a chance to truly find out. His only blessing is the Metaverse. Despite this, despite having a power nobody else in the world has, that nobody else in the world can take advantage of, he uses it as a means to chain himself down. The blessing turned him into a slave.

If he really wanted, he could be in his father's shoes. On top of the world. It was _him_ that got him there in the first place.

But Akechi is tired. More so than to Shido, he's a slave to life. His sole purpose is misfortune, to entertain sadistic entities watching him from above. He's sick of it. He'll no longer answer to anyone, prance around for anyone, do anything without reward.

He thinks to his letter of resignation he left on Sae's desk in the night. It states less how he is leaving his role by her side and more how he is leaving behind the burden of waking up every morning. He imagines her face when reading it. Would she even care? He knows he's replaceable, even when he thought himself otherwise. Shido made sure of that.

His father... he used to blame him for his mother's death. Then somewhere along the line, he fell so deep. Shido's praises meant the world to him. It must have been what his mother felt, to be by his side, to share the same air as him. It was intoxicating. Plus, there is nobody to blame for suicide besides the person committing it.

Right now, he hates both his parents. Or maybe he never loved them in the first place?

Akechi is happier than he's been in... _forever_. It feels fake, alien, like it doesn't belong inside of him. Someone like him hardly deserves happiness, yet he savours the sensation. It would be gone soon.

Other emotions he can't describe well up inside him when he physically appears on the grounds of the kantei after coming through the Metaverse. Shido really made it. In the end, Akechi got nothing. Not the life by Shido's side that was promised, or even something as small as a thank you. It's a sickening sort of pride, to help a villain win the game.

The living quarters of the kantei is a smaller, separate building from the main site, one that only a select few are allowed access to. Akechi walks the grounds, looking for one person in particular. A show can't end without credits, after all. It'd be wrong not to thank those who contributed to the mess of his life.

The mass of black hair is the giveaway. Akechi's blood boils, tightening both hands into fists at the sight of his worst enemy. If it weren't for him, this would be _his_ home too. _He'd_ share it with Shido, share _everything_ with Shido.

Not that anything matters now.

The human shaped trash turns to him, as if sensing his presence. The smile he gives Akechi is his usual disgusting grin. The last they saw each other, Akechi had tried to kill him. That smile is most unwelcome.

“So you came,” the trash says. He's sitting on a bench, Akechi joining him on the far end of the opposite side. The scenery is calming, bamboo shoots and the stone paved paths. In the cold, both wear extra layers. The sun is still out and sky blue regardless. “I hope you didn't ask to meet just to try and murder me again.”

What does Shido see in this idiotic piece of garbage? The gun tucked away by Akechi's breast suddenly feels heavier. He _could_ do it. But that's not his plan. The garbage would try to fight back anyway.

“No. This is the last we'll see of each other,” Akechi starts. “I'm leaving. There's nothing left for me.”

“Aw, don't be like that. If you really want to stay, I'll tell-”

“I don't want your pity.”

Akechi is fuming, but his voice is no louder than usual. His tone is sharper and gaze harsh. The filth is still smirking.

“Have you ever been to Shido's Palace?” Akechi asks. He doesn't want an answer. “I like to go from time to time. I've seen what my father thinks of me. A tool. A broken, useless weapon. I'm just a nuisance, a thorn in his side. I've also seen what he thinks of you. That's how I know there's no place for me any more. It's only a matter of time before he wants me dead.”

The wastage stops smiling. “You won't fight back?”

“Why? You've already taken everything I wanted. And I'm not sure I even want Shido any more. I hate everyone. Especially you and I.”

Akechi reaches inside his coat with his left hand, carefully gripping the gun and pulling it out. The trash jumps in surprise. It's funny to see him lose his cool so quickly over something so trivial. “ _Relax_. I said I wouldn't shoot you.”

He doesn't relax. Akechi laughs, preparing the weapon for use. “After visiting Shido's Palace for the last time, I thought I'd act like you. You actively work to anger my father, as if you gain something from his displeasure. So, I want to try. If Shido Masayoshi sees me as nothing more than a nuisance, then I believe it's only right my death is a nuisance too.”

Akechi doesn't know what happens after one dies. He's doesn't care, not until he lifts the gun to his head and watches the scum's face contort with emotion. He wants to laugh at the sight, the usually mature, suave human waste showing a face Akechi's never seen on him before. He's reaching out a hand, and Akechi wants to have the image burned to his being, pinned to his soul, a memory in his next life. The thought of Kurusu regretting, guilty, helpless over everything he's done is too hilarious to handle.

Akechi pulls the trigger.

 

**

 

The week after Akechi's death is a pain in Shido's ass. Akechi's suicide in the kantei sparked an inferno of attention, one that even Shido and his forces could not easily put out. When so many people were invested, to simply stop media coverage would be shooting himself in the foot. The masses would become angry, start demanding more answers for their questions. So he played along.

He made a public statement a day after the incident. It's probably all that Akechi wanted, to be acknowledged by his father. It's just like him to go to such extreme lengths to achieve even that. It disgusts Shido to think that Akechi got the last laugh. However, his son at least took all his secrets to the grave. People may wonder why the kantei of all places to commit suicide? If he had any relationship with Shido at all? But they would all have to continue to wonder until something else captured their attention. Nobody could know the truth.

Also, the Prime Minister can rest a little easier knowing that one nuisance has been dealt with.

After another fully packed day, Shido makes it to his room. Akira is there today. Lately, he's only been seen in disguise as one of the kantei's journalists, keeping a low profile while also sticking close to Shido. Even now, he's still wearing the shirt and large glasses that form his guise. He's sat on the bed.

They both acknowledge each other, but silence sticks around. Shido undresses, glancing back to see that Akira isn't watching him. He looks lost. The man gets under the covers of his bed, sitting up and looking at the teen. Slowly, slowly, Akira forges eye contact.

Shido hates the silence, yet can't think of anything to say. It's definitely Akechi that's put Akira in such a state, but he's been talking about Akechi non stop for a week. He doesn't care. Akira shouldn't care. The two were never friends, never anything close to that. It's as if they were made to be enemies.

“Are you upset?” Shido asks. Akira shrugs. “Then sleep.”

“I can't.”

Another round of silence. Shido sighs, about to settle into the sheets.

“I've tried,” Akira says. Shido stills. “I've tried to sleep. But I can't. I saw him put a bullet in his own head. There's nothing I could have done.”

Shido grunts. “Nobody could have done anything. He was a lost cause.”

Akira rakes a hand through his head of hair. “I only have nightmares about it. Just the same scene, replaying over and over. A corpse crumpling to the ground. He was alive one second ago. One second.”

“Akira.” The boy jumps when a large hand grasps his shoulder. He's losing himself. “Why are you letting him get to you? You didn't like him.”

“It hardly matters what I thought of him!” Akira shouts. Shouts. He's never raised his voice about speaking level unless they were having sex. “Somebody killed themselves in front of my eyes! He was smiling! His blood was on me! What can't you understand, you idiot?! This was supposed to be easy! Now I have to live with this for the rest of my life!”

Akira punches him in the chest. The force and surprise of the attack leave Shido breathless for a moment, but he recovers quickly enough to grab the wrist of another incoming punch. Shido forces Akira onto his back, yet there's no struggle. They're staring at each other, the boy under him breathing heavily. The look in his eyes is so restless and panicked. It catches Shido off guard. “What do you want me to do?” he asks.

What the answer could be leaves Shido apprehensive. He can't comfort Akira. He doesn't know the first thing. He's never extended empathy to anyone, rightfully so, as nobody has ever done so for him. He has nothing but a few vague notions to go off.

Akira takes off his glasses, dropping them on the floor. “Make me forget.”

Shido's immediate thought is cognition. There has to be a way to erase Akechi from his mind all together. With Isshiki's research, Akira's hands on experience, and Shido's resources, they'd probably find a solution easily-

As it turns out, Akira's preferred method is something a lot more simple. He pulls Shido down for a kiss, heated and desperate. Two pairs of hands strip each other of clothes, Akira wriggling under the covers to join Shido. Palms explore bodies, fingertips digging into skin, lips never separating. Shido ends up being straddled, looking up at his lover through the exchange of hot breaths.

Akira flutters eyelids open, gaze hungry and longing. “Masayoshi.”

“Yes?”

“Remember your promise? That when you became Prime Minister, you'll make me yours?” Akira kisses him again. Shido nods as his bottom lip is captured between teeth, being nibbled lightly. “Then do it.”

A fierce kiss is shared, Shido groping Akira's round ass, the boy rutting against him boldly. Shido manoeuvres his face away from the other's, aiming for the unblemished skin of the nape of Akira's neck. Soft gasps invade his hearing when he kisses, sucks and bites a mound of flesh. For the first time it what feels like forever, he marks his property.

Shido pulls Akira's head back to establish eye contact. All action stops as they stare at each other, foreheads and noses pressed together. Then Shido chuckles, guiding desire made human into their most delicate kiss.

“Silly boy,” he whispers. “You are already mine.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Okay so I updated the tags and added an extra chapter cus... this story is totally self indulgent and I just sorta thought it up over a couple of nights then said 'wouldn't it be funny if I wrote this' and I've been writing it non stop for the last month now haha. I didn't mean to take it so far but here we are. Anyway, I had originally 'planned' for Akechi to survive cus I knew Kurusu wouldn't kill him and I thought that he'd try to help him out a bit. But firstly, Shido defo wouldn't allow Akechi to live with all his knowledge and secondly, who even wants Akechi alive? Shido doesn't, Akechi doesn't, and I sure as hell don't.**


	4. Akira's Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings for feeling absolute, utter disappoint after reading this chapter lol**

New Years Eve. The constant flashing of accelerating past street lamps plus the biting cold of winter felt even inside the car are the only things keeping Shido awake. He reclines in the back seat, each blink he takes excessively long. He had planned to drink the night – or rather, the _year_ – away with associates, his first several hours of twenty eighteen to be nothing but a blank. However, while he was only drunk enough to realise he was drunk, he got a text that changed his plans.

In the year following his inauguration, Shido doesn't see Akira very much. They travel abroad together, and the young man is still prompt to respond to tasks Shido has for him, though other than that, he's away leading a normal second life; honest part time jobs with honest friends and even an honest love life.

It pisses Shido off.

He can hardly be blamed for leaving his own New Years party to return to the kantei when Akira left him a blunt, brief text: _“im home”_.

The text pissed him off too. He could perfectly visualise Akira's arrogant smirk he must've been wearing to type it. Akira did remind Shido of himself in all the worst ways. Whether or not alcohol is influencing his thoughts, the concept of _Akira Kurusu_ pisses Shido off more than usual. If for nothing else, Shido only wants to see Akira to beat some sense into him (before thoroughly fucking all the sense out again).

The grandeur of Shido's home at night suddenly jumps into view. The many outdoor lights as well as the main building gleaming makes the kantei a beacon in the dark, acting as a flagship for a fleet. Shido knows that's what he thinks of his home when sober, but all the lights are good for now is blinding him. The beginnings of a headache throb in the side of his skull.

The car pulls up outside, yet the driver doesn't have a chance to make it past security checks from the guard before Shido steps out. The blast of cold air grants Shido more leverage to stay conscious, he shoving hands into the pockets of his trench coat as he storms clear of the guard, concentrating more on placing one foot in front of the other to offer any sort of reply to the guard's greetings. He squints with a vengeance as he travels through the main grounds, easily bypassing more security to reach his personal quarters.

On this side of the kantei, Shido's retinas are spared from dazzling light, yet the contrast makes everything seem pitch black instead. A mixture of that and the effects of drinking have Shido fumbling outside the door to his home for a couple of minutes too long. He curses. The only upside is that Akira isn't around to watch him embarrass himself-

“Are you lost, old man?”

He swears again, turning around to see Akira's stupid grinning face. “Where the fuck have you been?” Shido snaps. The scent of whiskey embedded in his breath betrays his already poor sober guise.

Akira only chuckles. “I missed you too, Yoshi-kun.”

Shido's knee jerk reaction to that accursed nickname is to club the back of Akira's head, but he stumbles as he pushes himself off the door. Akira is in front of him before he manages to lose his footing completely, his cheeky smirk having never left his face. Shido settles for yanking the younger man by the collar of his coat, pulling that insufferable face a hair's breadth from his own. “Know your damn place, you brat,” Shido growls.

“Maybe you should put me there.”

Akira drapes arms over Shido's shoulders, bringing them together in a warm, albeit clumsy, kiss. Shido barely has time to familiarise himself with the lips against his before he's pushed back. “How much did you drink?” Akira asks.

“Barely anything.”

“You almost tripped over nothing.”

Shido scoffs. “That was your fault.”

Akira rolls his eyes, checking his phone. “We have ten minutes left. Come with me.”

The end of Shido's coat sleeve is tugged to pull him along, he grumbling under his breath about the cold. Akira takes them to an adjacent garden, where an isolated bench is surrounded by a family of bushes and flowers. Shido is sat down, gloved hands caressing his shoulders. He looks up at Akira, dark eyes contemplative. “Congratulations,” Akira begins. “It's been over a year since you became Prime Minister, right? You're doing well.”

Shido grunts. “What, do you want a thank you? Someone who's never around doesn't deserve that much from me.”

“As if you'd thank me otherwise,” Akira says with a smile. “At least my _friends_ appreciate me.”

“ _Tsk_.” Shido takes the hands from his shoulders, gripping them in his own. “If only they knew what exactly you're capable of.”

A heavy silence follows, Akira staring at their hands together. There's a sting of fatigue in Shido's eyes, yet he still catches the uncharacteristic downcast look his lover has. So he actually cares for those he acts around in his second life? It hardly matters, so long as it doesn't interfere with his loyalty to Shido himself.

“To be honest,” Akira murmurs. “that's why I can't spend New Years with them. Of all the masks I wear, the one I have around you is the most comfortable.”

“Masks?”

“Yeah. I hardly know what my true self is like any more.”

Shido's a man who grew up on old fashioned ideals. Whether or not they are right or wrong doesn't matter to him, especially now since he _is_ drunk, but men simply didn't _talk_ about how they felt. It's something Akira does from time to time, and each time it always throws Shido off. Each time Shido simply shuts him up.

He tugs the teen down into another kiss, holding him in a way that forces Akira to straddle him. Akira moans unexpectedly, Shido taking advantage by deepening the kiss. Tongues slide against one another, lips being nibbled and hot breath traded. Shido could sleep with a dozen bitches a week, but intimate kisses like these, he shares exclusively with Akira.

Sudden pops and bangs of fireworks breaks the two apart, the previously empty sky filled with colour. Distant cheering can be heard, and both pairs of eyes check Akira's phone. January first. The boy laughs, standing again while swaying his hips. “How romantic, a kiss to start the new year.” Shido shakes his head at the wink he receives. “Happy New Year, Masayoshi. I hope you don't die.”

“Same goes to you.” Shido stands, immediately grabbing Akira by his ass. There's a squeal in his ear. “Now, what are you hiding from me? Think I wouldn't notice your aversion to sitting down?” Akira doesn't need to answer. Shido can already feel _something_ amidst the denim covered buttocks. “Preparing for a long night, are we?”

“Stop asking questions you know the answer to.”

Shido's chuckle, low and rumbling, makes Akira shiver. The explosions of fireworks continue, but both are so absorbed in each other that Shido quickly forgets about them. Playful touches heat up his body more so than the booze, the two making their way out of the garden and into the house. The door is promptly locked once they are inside.

The fight to tear clothes off each other is merciless, jeans, jackets, shirts, shoes thrown this way and that, both naked before they even reach the bedroom. The only item of clothing between them are Akira's useless lacy panties, his genitals spilling out of them.

Shido easily picks the boy up, long legs wrapping around his middle while his chin is peppered with bites and kisses. It's been a month since the two last saw each other, and like each time Akira returns, Shido makes sure to eagerly inspect his body. Akira hasn't grown much in height, but he's been building up muscle, his once lanky frame a distant memory. There's more weight and definition to his figure, and it's easy for Shido to see how he's considered a heartthrob, though one day Akira's going to have to learn to tell his many admirers to back off.

The teen is thrown onto the bed – it could be _their_ bed, if Akira would stick around for more than a couple of days at a time – Shido climbing over him. His pale skin is smooth and unblemished, just the way Shido hates it. Akira gasps when Shido latches his mouth on his neck, sucking and biting the soft flesh. He nibbles the fresh mark – the first of many – watching it darken, such a loving contrast to the skin surrounding it. He's about to go in to leave another imprint on his property when Akira stops him, holding his head by the chin.

“You really missed me, didn't you?” Akira coos. An irritated huff is his response. “Of course, you're more a man of action. So, why don't you _show me_ how much you missed me?”

Shido's gaze is directed down to Akira's groin, where his other hand is leisurely stroking his growing length. The man scowls in disgust, yanking his head out of Akira's light grip. “No.”

“ _C'mon_ Masayoshi! Stop pretending to hate it-”

“I do.”

“You're good though. And getting better every time. Please.”

Shido's normal will of steel has softened to mere copper thanks to his intoxicated state, as well as his general unwelcome attraction to his partner. The multiple smooches Akira presses against his lips erodes his stubbornness completely. “Fine,” he mumbles through a kiss. Irritation flickers when he feels Akira's smile. “Don't patronise me, you bastard.”

“I was doing nothing of the sort!” Akira laughs. He sits up and leans back against the headboard. A noticeable blush crosses his face as he tugs on Shido's wrist. “Hey, you wouldn't also mind... putting on your gloves too?”

Any delay to his humiliation, Shido would take. He scoots over to the bedside table, rummaging around in the draws. He first takes out a thin, long box that houses a pair of black leather gloves, a present from Akira that is also _for_ Akira to sate his kinky desires. Shido also takes out condoms and lube for the main event. At least he could look forward to _that_...

He displays putting the gloves on for Akira's viewing pleasure, glaring at the teen. Akira gulps and shivers once the leather touches his skin, feather light as they trail down his body. “Masayoshi...” His cock throbs when fingers trace his pelvis.

“You're so weird,” Shido says. “To think you can get off to something like this.”

He forces Akira's legs apart, kneeling between them. Despite the power he knows he has, it's so degrading to service someone else. On the plus side, it's just Akira. The downside however is that it's _Akira_. He takes the smaller cock in a hand, Akira jerking up into the hold. He spits on the penis, giving his leather clad hand some lubrication. Akira moans above him, fingers twisting themselves in his unruly hair. Shido adds more spit and strokes harder, watching the boy begin to lose himself. At this rate, he could probably get away with just a handjob-

Akira lashes out to grab his wrist, pulling the hand away completely. A bead of sweat runs down his grinning face. “Masayoshi, I love your hands, but it's your _mouth_ I'm after.” He spreads his legs wider still. “Please?”

Every word from Akira lips feels like it's sole purpose is to spite Shido. Maybe it is. He digs fingers into Akira's thighs, glaring with such intensity that he could feel the creases of his brow burning into his skin. “Don't stare.”

Akira laughs, relaxing as he closes his eyes. With one last deep breath, Shido decides that it will be better to simply get this over with as quickly as possible. His face burns when he slips the tip of Akira's dick in his mouth, sucking lightly. He steals a quick glance up at the teen to make sure he isn't looking, but finds that – worse still – he's wearing the smuggest smile a man can.

Smug for a man who knows he's going to be taking it up the ass soon enough.

Shido imagines all the other faces Akira will be making while being fucked by him as he takes more of the length. That and poorly stifled gasps urge Shido to start moving back and forth, taking a little more of Akira each time. By no means is Akira's size comparable to Shido's own girth, yet is still irregularly big for someone so young.

A hand takes half of the cock to pump at the same pace as his mouth. It also distracts Akira enough to allow him to pull back for a few gasps of air. Although, Akira's insistence has been distracting _him_ from the flat black base poking out from his panties. Right, how could he forget about the toy that Akira was trying to hide...?

He uses fingers to twist the base of the plug, Akira jolting. “M-Masayoshi-!”

“Don't you want me to relieve you of this?” Shido says huskily. “It must've been a burden to have this inside you.”

Akira isn't given a chance to respond when Shido takes him between his lips again, toying with the butt plug in his depths. The boy moans helplessly, throwing an arm over his face. The warmth of the precum oozing on Shido's tongue doesn't bother him as much any more, especially not when his sole purpose is to pleasure the brat to satisfaction quickly. He doesn't even mind the saltiness from the sweat, or swallowing around the cock, causing a heavy shudder to course through Akira.

He pulls back for another deep breath, before diving back down to take in as much of Akira as possible, the hand around the shaft slipping away. The choked cry that follows is encouragement enough, Shido using the butt plug to gently fuck the hole it occupies. Coupled with the now concentrated oral, there's no way the teen would last much longer...

“Masayoshi... I'm about to-!”

That's the only warning Shido needs before he slides his mouth off the length, shuffling up to kiss Akira harshly, pumping him to completion over his own stomach. Even through the gloves, the heat of the semen is still evident. Shido breaks away from the lip lock, scanning the flustered face under him, all the way down to the mess he made. Some strips of cum decorate his fingers, the bright contrast against the gloves very alluring. Akira's obsession is starting to make a little more sense now.

Shido sits up on his knees, bringing the cum laced digits to Akira's mouth. It opens without question, he feeling the wet warmth even beneath the leather. Akira moans, eyelids fluttering open to engage in sensual eye contact with him. Shido's cock jerks. The pink tongue swirls around the two fingers, collecting every last drop of Akira's own seed. Each finger is then sucked individually, before together once more. A tightrope line of saliva connects the fingers with the bottom of Akira's lip as he pushes the hand away. It breaks when he licks his lips, humming in delight.

“I taste delicious,” Akira coos. “You don't know what you're missing out on.”

Shido grunts, swiping the two damp fingers across Akira's chest, using them to flick at a perky nipple. “I've lived without it up until this point. I'll be fine.”

Akira just laughs.

 

**

 

The lace of his panties still pathetically clutches at his hips, stretched beyond reuse.

Kurusu can only moan when Masayoshi's hands – those black clad _hands_ , always so skilled, whether they're deep in sex or authorising a man's murder – run across his body, teasing his vulnerable sides, down to the crack of his ass. He shudders when they pull out the plug. The toy isn't very big, more wide than long, Masayoshi inspecting it before dropping it on the ground.

“Someone like you needs something _bigger_ to satisfy you, correct?” Masayoshi says. He makes an obvious show of stroking his erection. Kurusu can't help but stare, a fresh coating of saliva lubricating his mouth. He wants to directly return the favour Masayoshi just fulfilled, but knows there aren't enough hours in the night for so many activities. Not to mention, the Prime Minister is still intoxicated; Kurusu couldn't have him passing out during the main event. So the teen just nods dumbly. Masayoshi chuckles.

The old man shuffles around, placing himself between Kurusu's legs again, his stance a lot less meek and embarrassed than before. He grabs the essentials he left on the bed earlier, Kurusu watching him prepare himself. Despite his recent orgasm, the sight of Masayoshi's large hand around his large cock is enough to spark excitement back into his loins. He playfully tugs his penis, grinning wickedly at the older man. Masayoshi returns it.

He isn't going to be able to walk come sunrise.

Masayoshi yanks Kurusu by his hips, Kurusu laughing as he slides onto his back, feeling as his lower half is hoisted up and the condom covered cock takes position over his entrance.

No matter how many times they do this, it's always what Kurusu misses the most when he leaves for his second, vanilla life. None of his friends could understand just how much he loves losing control, being used by the disgusting man above him. He doubts any of them could even _imagine_ what he gets up to while he's at his private 'internship'. Then again, who'd believe him if he said that he's a regular fuckee of the Prime Minister?

Masayoshi would never say aloud, but Kurusu knows that even he misses this. The iron grip he has on Kurusu's hips, the way he bites his bottom lip, the force that he shoves himself inside-!

Kurusu gasps, trembling as Masayoshi's fits his entire length in him. He manages to hoist himself on his arms, looking intently at the way they literally connect at the hip. Kurusu moans like a slut, his dick hardening at the image. He shakes his ass, trying to persuade Masayoshi to start moving. He doesn't, golden eyes fixed on the point of breach.

“Masayoshi...”

“Shut up,” Masayoshi growls. “Why should an ungrateful brat like you get what he wants?”

A sharp, sudden thrust makes Kurusu's arms give out, he flopping onto his back. In a flash, one of Masayoshi's hands find purchase around his neck, the hold firm though not tight enough to completely restrict his breathing.

Regardless, black gloves choking him always brings memories of...

Masayoshi's dick starts jabbing hard, Kurusu watching with wide eyes. More than anything, it's uncomfortable due to the awkward angle, yet the man above him is still building up a sweat. Kurusu grips the arm holding him down, trying to wriggle around so Masayoshi would consider _his_ needs too.

The hand around his neck tightens.

“I don't care about you,” Masayoshi snaps. “I don't care if you cum or not. You're body is _mine_ , and I'll use my property however I please.”

As quick as it came, the pressure around his throat disappears, Masayoshi leaning down to suck and bite there instead. Kurusu wraps legs around him, he in turn supporting Kurusu's position by squeezing his buttocks, keeping his ass off the bed. Kurusu can only shudder at the change, already feeling the much desired pleasure pooling inside.

The old man's lips nibble on an ear lobe, before his deep, husky voice makes his shiver tremendously. “ _Do you understand_?”

Kurusu nods desperately. “ _Yes_.”

Masayoshi kisses him fiercely, he helplessly melting into it. Teeth bite and graze his lips, and he's certain that they'll swell before the kiss even ends. Tongues trail and poke one another, and finally, _finally_ , Masayoshi starts moving his hips again. Kurusu pants and moans, his whole body turning into jelly, from his toes up to his head.

They separate from the kiss, Masayoshi's mouth going back to his neck, leaving marks as harsh and bold as the piston of his hips. The hickeys come one after another, Kurusu defenceless against the onslaught. Nails dig into the skin of Masayoshi's back, already slick with sweat. Being fucked like this, by this man, this is what Kurusu has been craving for weeks now. To think, he'd be happy being anyone's assassin as well as whore.

Breathless gasps are transformed into loud cries once Masayoshi hits _that spot_. He conducts his thrusts with more precision than any drunk is entitled to; striking his prostate with the right amount of force at just the right times. Kurusu loses the ability to form words, drool leaking from his mouth as he throws his head back, convulsing in ecstasy. He wants, no, _needs_ , more, yet doesn't want this to end. Regardless, his body can only take so much, he feeling the beginnings of his orgasm brewing.

Then Masayoshi stops.

Kurusu barely has time to question this, however – barely has time to even catch his breath again – before he's yanked onto his side, a leg tossed over the old man's shoulder. Masayoshi plunges back into Kurusu without a care, his cock gaining access to the deepest heat within Kurusu. The boy chokes out a yell, eyes lined with tears. His only thought is _Masayoshi's dick_ in him, ruining him, claiming its territory.

Is it any wonder Kurusu constantly loses himself like this? The intense pleasure, the heat, the musky smell, the looseness of his entire body, it all reinforces that he is simply Masayoshi's doll.

His peak is in sight, yet he tries to avert his gaze of it, holding himself back, even for a little longer. However, he's thrown over it when the feel of leather engulfs his cock, pumping him to the same pace of Masayoshi's fucking. He doesn't stand a chance. His ass, his toes, his fingers all clench and unclench as he erupts, tossing his head this way and that. The ringing of his own voice echoes through his ears, bouncing off the walls of the room. His body jerks with each line of cum he ejaculates.

But Masayoshi does not stop.

Kurusu is a rag doll as he's twisted onto his front, half his face buried in the pillow. He breathes heavy as Masayoshi continues, his own steady rhythm replaced by uncoordinated thrusts with all the wildness of a lion. His mouth latches onto the back of Kurusu's shoulder, the last brand of the night seared onto his skin. Masayoshi grunts twice. His movements slow close to a stop, the pounding more a gentle massage. Kurusu wonders if Masayoshi knows _how_ to stop. Maybe he'd softly continued until he got hard again, starting a never ending cycle of fucking.

That (thankfully? Unfortunately?) isn't the case, Masayoshi showing rare consideration for someone other than himself when he chooses not to just flop his full weight on Kurusu, pulling out and laying next to him instead. Both pant quietly, their faces so close their hot breath adds to the flush on their cheeks.

“Masayoshi.”

Kurusu doesn't get a reply. Did the old man really fall asleep that quickly? He shakes him, earning a groan, one eyelid flipping open. “What?”

Kurusu chuckles. “Geez, old man. How much did you drink?”

Masayoshi mumbles something, though Kurusu doubts it's an answer when he overhears 'fucking brat'. He laughs, trying to sit up without irritating his abused hole. He takes the filled condom from Masayoshi's penis, tying it and getting up to throw it away in the bathroom. Despite how cold it is outside, the warmth of the kantei plus their little group exercise has Kurusu uncomfortably clammy. He throws a little water on his face before returning to the bedroom. The light sounds of snoring greet him immediately.

Kurusu smiles, crawling over Masayoshi to get back to bed. He tugs the bedsheets over them, snuggling up against his lover. Masayoshi must've drank a lot, there'd be no way he'd knock out so fast otherwise. Still, Kurusu kisses his lips.

While on the precipice of sleep, he feels a large, warm arm drape over his waist.

 

**

 

Taking a Palace owner into their own Palace probably has more risks than Kurusu is even aware of. At first, Masayoshi was unsure, especially because it meant that it's _his_ body – or rather, his mind – on the line. Yet after a hasty tour of the ground level, Masayoshi escaped his cognitive world with his Palace intact. No evidence of any differences in behaviour or mental state or physical form. It went so well, how could they not do it over and over again?

The Metaverse is a great escape for Masayoshi. So long as they are aware of time, the ability to simply disappear from responsibilities for a while is an ideal way to keep someone sane. However, the spiralling depths of the collective unconscious is hardly a suitable rendezvous for sexual encounters, which is why Kurusu suggested Masayoshi's Palace in the first place. Safe rooms are luxury cabins with more than enough space for them to get up to _anything_ , the distorted view of the collapsing world outside almost beautiful.

Masayoshi definitely agreed. And if he, who knew way more about the intricacies of the Metaverse than Kurusu, deemed it safe, then who is Kurusu to complain? Although, where Masayoshi drew the line is meeting with his own Shadow, the potential consequences of that far too risky for him to even warrant considering. Kurusu tried – and failed – to not seem bothered by that, all plans of him squashed between _two_ Shidos fading into a distant dream. Masayoshi only laughed at him.

After becoming Prime Minister, Masayoshi's Palace moved. The large, proud building of the kantei sat atop the ship instead of the Diet building. Inside, the Palace became much bigger and somehow grander still, the gold and lights practically blinding. It helps that Masayoshi's main office directly warps them inside a safe room so neither have to traverse the flashy cruise ship so openly.

It hits Kurusu one day that this is the same sight _he_ saw before he decided to...

But thoughts about the late son as well as anything else are far from Kurusu's mind right now, he too busy bouncing on Masayoshi's stiff erection whilst the man whispers dirty poetry and foul promises in his ear. It's amazing, the familiar push and pull, the girth inside him, the way he never ever tires of this or this man. Yes, his thighs would be screaming at him later and sitting would be an absolute bitch, yet nothing could be more worth it.

He stifles his moans by crashing his lips against Masayoshi's, strands of his cum landing on both stomachs. He's limp by the time his high ends, letting himself be handled to fulfil Masayoshi's satisfaction. He's yanked back by his hair, throat fully exposed to the air. He's licked under his jaw, teeth grazing the skin as his butt is shoved down when Masayoshi jerks up. Kurusu sighs and mewls, the treatment lasting until his partner could last no longer.

Both bask in the post orgasmic bliss for a few moments, arms holding each other close, Kurusu placing soft, meaningless kisses across a broad shoulder. The protected cock slips from the overused hole, a chill of emptiness making Kurusu shiver. All of a sudden, he's pushed back, sprawling out on the bed while Masayoshi gets up, discarding the condom and cleaning himself up with the wipes they always carry with them. He begins to dress himself but Kurusu hinders him.

“Stay longer,” Kurusu pleas.

Masayoshi swats the hand holding his trousers, glaring. “What a spoiled slut you've become. I have work.”

Kurusu pouts, though does nothing else to try and stop the man. He's dressed and presentable rather quickly. Maybe he actually does have something important to do after all.

Masayoshi bends down to kiss the teen, cupping his chin tenderly. “Phone,” Masayoshi mutters against his lips.

Kurusu rolls his eyes, pointing to his discarded black trousers on the floor. Masayoshi retrieves the phone from a pocket, tapping away at the screen. “Don't forget to pick me up in a couple of hours,” Kurusu says.

“What do you _do_ in here?”

“Nothing. I just like being on your mind.”

Masayoshi scowls, Kurusu laughing. The Prime Minister steps away from the beds, so not to get Kurusu caught in the crossfire of being teleported out of the Palace. They say a brief farewell, Masayoshi fading from sight.

Kurusu relaxes on the bed for a couple of more minutes, knowing that his fun is far from over. When he gets up, he takes his time to pull on his Metaverse outfit. They aren't going to stay on for long, but he can't exactly wander around naked, even in an alternative world based on Masayoshi's cognition.

Fully dressed, he makes his way out of the safe room, splashes of distortion spraying around every step he took. He's mostly ignored as he heads towards the Representatives Chamber, where by now he's used to the looks of envy the fake people give him. To be so readily accepted by Masayoshi, they didn't understand why or how, just like those in the real world... It's scary how accurate the cognition of people are here.

Past the golden doors, Kurusu steps inside the elevator. The lift takes him down, slowing to a stop before reaching the chamber. That's not where Kurusu is interested in going. The Captain's private quarters have to be securely hidden away, after all.

Kurusu is greeted when he walks out of the lift by a familiar grin attached to a familiar face. He returns the smile, intertwining two pairs of red leather fingers. “What took you?” his voice asks, smoother and sultrier. “Captain's been waiting.”

Masayoshi's cognitive Akira leans forward, placing a soft kiss against Kurusu's lips. Kurusu chuckles, mumbling through the kiss, “He's so impatient.” His mask is lifted to the top of his head, the lip lock becoming more intense. Is it narcissistic to think of himself as a fantastic kisser? Whatever the answer, it hardly bothers him.

Reluctantly, they pull apart, cognitive Akira licking pink, plump lips. “Come now,” Akira coos, tugging Kurusu by his jacket. “I want to show you my new uniform. It looks just like Captain's.”

Kurusu hums, pecking at the neck and bare shoulders of his double. The tiny hall he entered has a solidarity gold door at the end, it brandishing a nameplate with Masayoshi's name carved into it. Despite the fact that the door is so close, Kurusu keeps Akira occupied with inappropriate touches across his body. The cognition moans and giggles, initiating another open mouthed kiss. Kurusu has himself pinned to the door, shoving a leg between Akira's, it immediately being rutted against. He feels the press of the growing penis on his thigh, his own cock jerking in response. How disgracefully lewd, to be aroused by arousing himself.

Cognitive Akira pulls away from the kiss, shaking his hips seductively. He has to hold Kurusu back by the shoulders to have a word in edgeways. “God, am I really so horny? However...” Kurusu's testicles are massaged through his pants, his breath hitching. Akira's lips hover over Kurusu's ear, hot air tickling the lobe. “...This is no way for the Vice Captain to conduct himself, especially outside the Captain's door.”

Kurusu smirks, establishing eye contact with himself. “Will you punish me?”

Akira releases Kurusu's clothed genitals, winking. “That's all up to Captain.”

They stand hand in hand as cognitive Akira opens the door to the quarters, both bathed in white light. The room is wide, done up like a hotel suite. The king sized bed takes up a fair chunk of the room, displaying itself as the main attraction.

The form of Masayoshi stands by the window, the scene taking Kurusu back to over a year ago, where it wasn't uncommon to walk in on the politician pondering while staring down at Tokyo. But this isn't the real Tokyo, or even the real Masayoshi. The Shadow turns around, a golden glow emitting from behind his glasses, making his normally bright eyes even more intense.

“You're late,” the Shadow speaks, wearing Masayoshi's typical scowl. Neither of the two Kurusus make a move to apologise or so much as pretend that they care. Kurusu saunters towards Masayoshi's Shadow, his doppelgänger two steps behind. Masayoshi yanks Kurusu close when he's in arm's reach. “You're an insatiable slut too. Back for more even after you've just been fucked?”

“It's your fault, Captain,” Akira purrs from behind Kurusu, arms leisurely hanging around his shoulders. “We can't have enough of your delicious cock. Yours is the only one that makes me feel _that_ good...”

Masayoshi gives the impression of contemplating the words, then shows off his teeth in a wicked grin, caressing Kurusu's cheek. “Is that true? No, of course it is. And it seems I'm the one to blame. So, allow me to take responsibility.” He leans down, teasing a kiss. “I'll fuck that slutty ass of yours, for as long as you want, for as long as it takes to completely satisfy you.”

Kurusu moans, his jacket being stripped off by his other self.

“You can choke on my dick and swallow as much of my cum as you need to fulfil you.”

Akira continues stripping Kurusu, piece by piece, Masayoshi's hands already kneading the exposed skin.

“No matter what you desire, whether it's being tied up, dressed up, or _fucked up_ , I'll comply if it means appeasing you.”

Kurusu is lifted off his feet, meeting the Shadow in a messy make out session. They share the same air, spit, and carnal yearnings. Between them, sometimes there is gentleness and selflessness, but never love. Everything they do is for the sake of lust, for reaping the most amount of pleasure from each other, using one another to reach the height of wanton sensations. Masayoshi wants to fuck. Kurusu wants to be fucked. That is what their relationship has always been. And this far in, they need each other.

Kurusu is dropped onto the bed, the cognition, equally as naked, sitting close, nuzzling into and fondling him. Masayoshi looms above them, flaunting his built body by the way he peels off his clothes, from top to bottom. And then, all the garments in a heap on the floor, Masayoshi's erection grasped in his hand, he leers at the two boys, eyes only on Kurusu.

“Do you understand, Akira?”

Kurusu licks his lips, never breaking his gaze with the Shadow. He offers up a confident smile, waving his hand in a two fingered salute. “Aye aye, _Captain_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **omg... this chapter... the gap between this and the last ended up being way bigger than anticipated because yikes... a lot of real life stuff happening, both good and bad let's just say haha. In the meantime, I did actually manage to replay P5, which did help get this chapter in a direction I like (omg the amount of failed drafts...) I don't want to say this like I didn't enjoy writing but maaaan, I just wanted this story finished so it wouldn't constantly be nagging me at the back of my mind. So really big thanks for reading this!**


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